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DISTRICT    SCHOOL 


AS    IT    WAS, 


DISTRICT   SCHOOL 


AS   IT   WAS. 

ft 

ONE  WHO  WENT  TO  IT. 


N"!!  W-y  OEK  ; 


FUBLISHED    BY   J.    ORVILLE    TAYLOR, 
AT  "THE  AMEBICAN  COMMON  SCROei.  VNIOK," 

No.  128  Fulton-Street. 
1838. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congrees,  in  the  year  1833,  bjr 
Cabtbr,  Hendee,  and  Co. 
the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  ef  Massachusetts. 


PIEBCY  St,  REED,  print. 


StacK 
AnnoC 

LA 


A  WORD 

To  the  glancing  Reader,  if  he  will  just  stop  a 
moment  and  see  what  it  is. 

This  little  volume  was  written  in  the  hope 
that  it  would  be  a  trifling  aid  to  that  improve- 
ment which  is  going  on  in  respect  to  com- 
mon schools.  It  was  also  intended  to  present  a 
pleasant  picture  of  some  peculiarities  which 
have  prevailed  in  our  country,  but  are  now 
passing  away. 

It  is  trusted  that  no  one  who  has  k«pt,*  ot 
is  keeping  a  dislrict  school  after  the  old  fashion, 
will  be  offended  at  the  slight  degree  of  satire  he 
will  meet  with  here.  Any  one  of  due  be- 
nevolence is  willing  to  be  laughed  at,  and 
€ven  to  join  in  the  laugh  against  himself,  if 
it  will  but  hasten  the  tardy  steps  of  improve- 
ment. Indeed,  there  are  quite  a  number  who 
have  reason  to  believe  that  tiie  author  has  here 
sketched  some  of  his  own  school-keeping  defi- 
ciencies. 

•  Keep  school  is  a  very  different  thing  from  teach 
school,  according  to  Mr.  Carter,  in  his  Essays  on  Pop- 
ular Education. 


\t  -^  PEEFACB. 

It  may  be  reasonably  anticipated  that  the 
young  will  be  the  most  numerous  readers  of 
these  pages.  Some  scenes  have  been  de- 
scribed, the  sports  of  the  school-going  season 
for  instance,  with  a  special  view  to  their  enter- 
tainment. It  is  trusted,  however,  that  the  older 
may  not  find  it  unpleasant  to  recall  the  pastimes 
of  their  early  years. 

Now  and  then  a  word  has  been  used  which 
some  young  readers  may  not  understand.  In 
this  case  they  are  entreated  to  seek  a  dictionary 
and  find  out  its  meaning.  They  may  be  assured 
that  the  time  spent  in  this  way  will  not  be  lost. 
The  Jefiniiion  thus  acquired  may  be  of  use  to 
them  the«'ery  next  book  they  shall  take  up  ;  or 
at  least  in  the  course  of  the  much  reading  their 
future  leisure  will  allow  them  to  enjoy, 
i  The  Reader  shall  no  longer  be  detained  fron» 
the  experience  of  a  supposed  school-boy ;  if 
true  to  nature,  no  matter  whether  it  really  be,  or 
be  not  that  of  the 

Author. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  I.    .^' 
The  Old  School  House 


CHAPTER  n. 
First  Summer  at  School— Mary  Smith        .         .        5 

CHAPTER  HI. 
The  Spelling  Book 11 

CHAPTER  IV. 
First  Winter  at  School 15 

CHAPTER  V. 
Second  Summer — Mary  Smith  again         .         .        2 1 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Third  Summer — Mehitabel  Holt  and  other  In- 
structresses        .....  24 


vili  «(dntkktb. 

Little   Books  presented   the  Last   day     of     the 

School 29 

CHAPTER  VIIL 

Grammar — Young  Lady's  Accidence — Murray  — 

Parsing — Pope's  Essay       ....      35 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Particular  Master — Various  Methods  of  Pun- 
ishment ...         48 

CHAPTER  X. 

How  they  used  to  Read  in  the  Old  School  House 

in  District  No.  5 47 

CHAPTER  XL 

How  they  used  to  Spell  ....         56 

CHAPTER  XH. 

Mr.  Spoutsound,  the  Speaking  Master — The  Exhi- 
bition          66 

CHAPTER  XHL 

Learning  to  Write     ......       78 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Seventh  Winter,  but  not  much  about  it — Eighth 
Winter — Mr.  Johnson — Good  Orders  and  but 
little  Punishing — A  Story  about  Punishing — 
Ninlli  Winter 88 


CHAPTER  XY. 

Going  out — Making    Bows — Boys   coming  in — 

Girls  going  out  and  coming  in  .         .         94 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Noon — Noise  and  Dinner — Sports  at  School — 
Coasting — Snow-balling — A  certain  memora- 
ble Snow-ball  Battle 101 

CHAPTER  XVn. 

Arithmetic — commencement — progress — Late  Im- 
provement in  the  Art  of  Teaching  it       .         .111 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Augustus  Starr,  the  Privateer  who  turned  Peda- 
gogue— ^His  new  crew  Mutiny,  and  perform  a 
Singular  Exploit.  .         .         .         .         116 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Eleventh  Winter — Mr.  Silverson,  our  first  Teacher 
from  College — His  blunder  at  meeting  on  the 
Sabbath — His  Character  as  a  Schoolmaster        123 

CHAPTER  XX. 

A  College  Master  again — His  Character  in  School 
and  out — Our  first  attempts  at  Composition — 
Brief  Sketch  of  another  Teacher        .        .      133 


The  Examination  at  the  closing  of  the  School         141 
CHAPTER  XXII. 

Tlie  Old  School  House  again — Its  appearance  the 
last  winter — Wliy  so  long  occupied — A  new 
one  at  last 149 


THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 
AS  IT  WAS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  OLD  SCHOOL  HOUSE. 

The  Old  School-house,  as  it  used  to  be  call- 
ed, how  distinctly  it  rises  to  existence  anew 
before  the  eye  of  my  n>ind.  Here  was  kept 
the  District  School  as  it  was.  This  was  the 
seat  of  my  rustic  Alma  Mater,  to  borrow  a 
phrase  from  collegiate  ani^lassic  use.  It  is 
now  no  more  ;  and  those  of  similar  construc- 
tion are  passing  away,  never  to  be  patterned 
again.  It  may  be  well,  therefore,  to  describe 
the  edifice  wherein,  and  whereabout,  occur- 
red many  of  the  scenes  about  to  be  recorded. 
I  would  have  future  generations  acquainted 
with  the  accommodations,  or  rather  dis-accom- 
modations  of  their  predecessors. 

The  Old  School -house  in  District  No.  5, 
stood  on  the  top  of  a  very  high  hill,  on  the 


2  THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

north  side  of  what  was  called  the  county  road. 
The  house  of  Capt.  Clark,  about  ten  rods  off, 
was  the  only  human  dwelling  within  a  quarter 
of  a  mile.  The  reason  why  this  seminary  of 
letters  was  perched  so  high  in  the  air,  and  so 
far  from  the  homes  of  those  who  resorted  to  it, 
was  this : — Here  was  the  centre  of  the  dis- 
trict, as  near  as  surveyors's  chain  could  desig- 
nate. The  people  east  would  not  permit  the 
building  to  be  carried  one  rod  further  west, 
and  those  c^the  opposite  quarter  were  as  ob. 
stinate  on  their  side.  So  here  it  was  placed, 
and  this  continued  to  be  literally  the  hill  of 
science  to  generation  after  generation  of  learn- 
ers for  fifty  years. 

The  edifice  was  set  half  in  Capt.  Clark's 
■field  and  half  in  the  road.  The  wood. pile  lay 
in  the  corner  made  by  the  east  end  and  the 
stone  wall.  The  best  roof  it  ever  had  over  it 
-svas  the  changeful  sky,  which  was  a  little 
loo  leaky  to  keep  the  fuel  at  all  times  fit  for 
combustion,  without  a  great  deal  of  puffing 
and  smoke.  The  door  step  was  a  broad  un- 
hewn rock,  brought  from  the  neighboring  pas- 
ture. It  had  not  a  flat  and  even  surface,  but 
was  considerably  sloping  from  the  door  to  the 
Toad,  so  that  in  icy  times  the  scholars  in  pass- 
sngout,  used  to  snatch  from  the  scant  declivity 


kS  IT  WAS.  3 

the  transitory  pleasure  of  a  slide.  But  look 
out  for  a  slip.up,  ye  careless,  for  many  a  time 
have  I  seen  urchin's  head  where  his  feet  were 
but  a  second  before.  And  once  the  most  lofty 
and  perpenjjicular  pedagogue  I  ever  knew,  be- 
came  suddenly  horizontalized  in  his  egress. 

But  we  have  lingered  round  this  door- step 
long  enough.  Before  we  cross  it,  however,  let 
us  just  glance  at  the  outer  side  of  the  struc- 
ture. It  was  never  painted  by  man,  but  the 
clouds  of  many  years  had  stained  it  with  their 
own  dark  hue.  The  nails  were  starting  from 
their  fastness,  and  fellow-clapboards  were 
becoming  less  closely  and  warmly  intimate. 
There  were  six  windows,  which  here  and 
there  stopped  and  distorted  the  passage  of 
light  by  fractures,  patches,  and  seams  of 
putty.  There  were  shutters  of  board,  like 
those  of  a  slore,  which  were  of  no  kind  of 
use,  excepting  to  keep  the  windows  from  harm 
in  vacations,  when  they  were  the  least  liable  to 
harm.  They  might  have  been  convenient 
screelfe  against  the  summer  sun,  were  it  not 
that  thcii*  shade  was  inconvenient  darknesa. 
Some  of  these,  from  loss  of  buttons,  were  fas  . 
tened  back  by  poles,  which  were  occasionally 
thrown  down  in  the  heedlessness  of  play,  and 

liot   replaced  till    repeated    slams   had   bro- 
2 


4  THE    DISTEICT   SCHOOL 

ken  a  pane  of  glass,  or  the  patience  of  the 
teacher.  To  crown  this  description  of  exter- 
nals, I  must  say  a  word  about  the  roof.  The 
shingles  had  been  battered  apart  by  a  thou- 
sand rains  ;  and  excepting  where  the  most 
defective  had  been  exchanged  for  new  ones, 
they  were  dingy  with  the  mold  and  moss  of 
time.  The  bricks  of  the  chimney-top  Avere 
losing  their  cement,  and  looked  as  if  some 
high  wind  might  hurl  them  from  their  smoky 
vocation. 

We  will  now  go  inside.  First,  there  is  an 
entry  which  the  district  were  sometimes  prov- 
ident enough  to  store  with  dry  pine  wood,  as 
an  antagonist  to  the  greenness  and  wetness  of 
the  other  fuel.  A  door  on  the  left  admits  us 
to  the  school  room.  Here  is  a  space  about 
twenty  feet  long  and  ten  wide,  the  reading 
and  spelling  parade.  At  the  south  end  of  it, 
at  the  left  as  you  enter,  was  one  seat  and  wri- 
ting  bench,  making  a  right  angle  with  the 
rest  of  the  seats.  This  was  occupied  in  the 
winter  by  two  of  the  oldest  males  in  the  school. 
At  the  opposite  end  was  the  magisterial  desk, 
raised  upon  a  platform  a  foot  from  the  floor, 
the  fire-place  was  on  the  right,  half  way  be- 
tween the  door  of  entrance  and  another  door 
leading   into  a  dark   closet,  where  the  girl* 


AS  IT  WAS.  5 

put  their  outside  garments  and  their  dinner 
baskets.  This  also  served  as  a  fearful  dun- 
geon for  the  immuring  of  offenders.  Directly 
opposite  the  fire-place  was  an  aisle,  two  feet 
end  a  half  wide,  running  up  an  inclined  floor 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  On  each 
side  of  this  were  five  or  six  Ion;;  seats  and 
writing  benches,  for  the  accommodation  of 
the  school  at  their  studies.  In  front  of  these, 
next  to  the  spelling  floor,  were  low,  narrow 
seats  for  abecedarians  and  others  near  that 
rank.  In  general,  the  older  the  scholar  the 
further  from  the  front  was  his  location.  The 
windows  behind  the  back  seat  were  so  low 
that  the  traveller  could  generally  catch  the 
stealthy  glance  of  curiosity  as  he  passed. 
Such  was  the  Old  School-house  at  the  time  I 
first  entered  it.  Its  subsequent  condition  and 
many  other  inconveniences  will  be  noticed 
hereafter. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FIRST  SUMMER  AT  SCHOOL MAKY  SMITH. 

I  was  three  years  and  a  half  old  when  I  first 
entered  the  Old  School-house  as  an  abeceda- 
rian.    I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  set  foot  on 


O  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

the  first  step  of  learning's  ladder  before  this, 
but  I  had  no  elder  brother  or  sister  to  lead 
me  to  school  a  mile  off;  and  it  never  occurred 
to  my  good  parents,  that  they  could  teach  me 
even  the  alphabet ;  or,  perhaps,  they  could 
not  afford  the  time,  or  muster  the  patience  for 
the  tedious  process.  I  had,  however,  learned 
the  name  of  capital  A,  because  it  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  column,  and  was  the  similitude  of  a 
harrow  frame.  Of  O,  also,  from  its  resem- 
blance to  a  hoop.  Its  sonorous  name,  more- 
over, was  a  frequent  passenger  through  my 
mouth,  after  I  had  begun  to  articulate,  its  am- 
ple sound  being  the  most  natural  medium  by 
which  man  born  unto  trouble  signifies  the 
pains  of  his  lot.  X,  too,  was  familiar,  as  it 
seemed  so  like  the  end  of  the  old  saw-horse 
that  stood  in  the  wood-shed.  Further  than  this 
my  alphabetical  lore  did  not  extend,  according 
to  present  recollection. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  first  day  of  scholar- 
ship, as  it  was  the  most  important  era  which  had 
yet  occurred  to  my  experience.  Behold  me  on 
the  eventful  morning  of  the  first  Monday  in 
June,  arrayed  in  my  new  jacket  and  trowsers, 
into  which  my  importance  had  been  shoved  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life.  This  change  in  ray 
costume  had  been  deferred  till  this  day,  that  I 


AS  IT  WAS.  7 

might  be  nice  and  clean  to  go  to  school.  Then 
my  Sunday  hat,  (not  of  soft  drab-colored  fur, 
ye  city  urchins,  but  of  coarse  and  hard  sheep's 
wool,)  my  Sunday  hat  adorning  my  head  for 
the  first  time,  in  common  week-day  use ;  for 
my  other  had  been  crushed,  torn  and  soiled 
t)ut  of  the  seemliness,  and  almost  out  of  the 
form  of  a  hat.  My  little  new  basket,  loo, 
bought  expressly  for  the  purpose,  was  laden 
with  'lection-cake  and  cheese  for  my  dinner, 
and  slung  upon  my  arm.  An  old  Perry's 
spelling-book,  that  our  boy  Ben  used  at  the 
winter  school,  completed  my  equipment. 

Mary  Smith  was  my  first  .teacher,  and  tho 
dearest  to  my  heart  I  ever  had.  She  was  a 
niece  of  Mrs.  Carter,  who  lived  in  the  nearest 
house  on  the  way  to  school.  She  had  visited 
her  aunt  the  winter  before,  and  her  uncle 
being  chosen  committee  for  the  school  at  the 
town-meeting  in  the  spring,  sent  immediately 
to  her  home  in  Connecticut,  and  engaged  her 
to  teach. the  summer  school.  During  the  few 
days  she  spent  at  his  house  she  had  shown 
herself  peculiarly  qualitied  to  interest  and  gain 
the  love  of  children.  Some  of  the  neighbors, 
too,  who  had  dropped  in  while  she  was  there, 
were  much  pleased  with  her  appearance.  She 
had  taught  one  season  in  her  native  state,  and 

2» 


6  THE  DISTRICT  SCHOOt 

that  she  succeeded  well  Mr.  Carter  could  not 
doubt.  He  preferred  her  therefore,  to  hun- 
dreds near  by,  and  for  once  the  partiality  of  the 
relative  proved  profitable  to  the  district. 

Now  Mary  Smith  was  to  board  at  her 
uncle's.  This  was  deemed  a  fortunate  cir- 
cumstance on  my  account,  as  she  would  take 
that  care  of  me  on  the  way  which  was  needful 
to  my  inexperienced  childhood.  My  mother 
led  me  to  Mr.  Carter's,  to  commit  me  to  my 
guardian  and  instructor  for  the  sunamer.  I 
entertained  the  most  extravagant  ideas  of  the 
dignity  of  the  school-keeping  vocation,  and  it 
was  with  trembUng  reluctance  that  I  drew 
near  the  presence  of  so  lovely  a  creature  as 
they  told  me  Mary  Smith  was.  But  she 
so  gently  took  my  quivering  little  hand,  and  so 
tenderly  stooped  and  kissed  my  cheek,  and 
said  such  soothing  and  winning  words,  that  my 
timidity  was  gone  at  once. 

She  used  to  lead  me  to  school  by  the  hand, 
while  John  and  Sarah  Carter  gamboled  on, 
unless  1  chose  to  gambol  with  them  ;  but  the 
first  day,  at  least,  I  kept  by  her  side.  All  her 
demeanor  toward  me,  and  indeed,  toward  us  all, 
was  of  a  piece  with  her  first  introduction.  She 
called  me  to  her  to  read,  not  with  a  look  and 
voice  as  if  she  were  doing  a  duty  she  dis- 


AS  It  WAS.  9 

lifted,  and  was  determined  I  should  do  mine 
too,  like  it  or  not,  as  is  often  the  manner  of 
teachers ;  but  with  a  cheerful  smile  and  a 
softening  eye,  as  if  she  were  at  a  pastime,  and 
wished  me  to  partake  of  it. 

My  first  business  was  to  master  the  A,  B,  C, 
and  no  small  achievement  it  was  ;  for  many  a 
little  learner  waddles  to  school  through  the 
summer,  and  wallows  to  the  same  through  the 
winter,  before  he  accomplishes  it,  if  he  hap- 
pens to  be  taught  in  the  manner  of  former 
times.  This  might  have  been  my  lot,  had  it 
not  been  for  Mary  Smith.  Few  of  the  better 
methods  of  leaching,  which  now  make  the  road 
to  knowledge  so  much  more  easy  and  plea- 
sant, had  then  found  their  way  out  of,  or  into 
the  brain  of  the  pedagogical  vocation.  Mary 
went  on  in  the  old  way  indeed,  but  the  whole 
exercise  was  done  with  such  sweetness  on  her 
part,  that  the  dilatory,  and  usually  unpleasant 
task,  was  to  me  a  pleasure,  and  consumed 
not  so  much  precious  time  as  it  generally  does 
m  the  case  of  heads  as  stupid  as  mine.  By 
the  close  of  that  summer  the  alphabet  was 
securely  my  own.  That  hard,  and  to  me  un- 
meaning string  of  sights  and  sounds,  were 
bound  forever  to  my  memory  by  the  ties  crea- 
ted by  gentle  tones  and  looks. 


10  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

That  hardest  of  all  taska,  sitting  becomingly 
still,  was  rendered  easier  by  her  goodness* 
When  I  grew  restless,  and  turned  from  side 
to  side,  and  changed  from  posture  to  posture, 
in  search  of  relief  from  my  uncomfortableness, 
she  spoke  words  of  sympathy  rather  than  re- 
proof. Thus  I  was  wont  to  be  as  quiet  as  I 
could.  When  I  grew  drowsy,  and  needed  but 
a  comfortable  position  to  drop  into  sleep  and 
forgetfulness  of  the  weary  hours,  she  would 
gently  lay  me  at  length  on  my  seat,  and  leave 
me  just  falling  to  slumber,  with  her  sweet 
smile  the  last  thing  beheld  or  remembered. 

Thus  wore  away  my  first  summer  at  the  dis* 
trict  school.  As  I  look  back  on  it,  faintly  trac 
ed  on  memory,  il  seems  like  a  beautiful  dream, 
the  images  of  which  are  all  softness  and  peace. 
I  recollect  that  when  (he  last  day  came,  it  was 
not  one  of  light-hearted  joy — it  was  one  of 
sadness,  and  it  closed  in  tears.  I  was  now 
obliged  to  stay  at  home  in  solitude,  for  the 
want  of  playmates,  and  in  weariness  of  the 
passing  time,  for  the  want  of  something  to  do, 
for  there  was  no  particular  pleasure  in  saying 
ABC,  all  alone,  with  no  Mary  Smith's  voice 
and  looks  for  an  accompaniment. 


>S    IT   WAS,  11 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  SPELLING  BOOK.  * 

As  the  spelling-book  was  the  first  manual 
of  instruction  used  in  school,  and  kept  in  oar 
hands  for  many  years,  I  tliink  it  worthy  of  a 
separate  chapter  in  these  annals  of  the  times 
that  are  past.  The  spelling-book  used  in  our 
school  from  time  immemorial — immemorial  at 
least  to  the  generation  of  learners  to  which  I 
bi  longed — was  thus  entitled  :  "  The  Only 
Sure  Guide  to  the  English  Tongue,  by  Wil- 
liam Perry,  Lecturer  of  the  English  Language 
in  the  Academy  of  Edinburgh,  and  author  of 
several  valuable  school  books."  What  a  mag- 
nificent title  !  To  what  an  enviable  superior- 
ity had  its  author  arrived.  The  Only  Sure 
Guide  !  Of  course,  the  book  must  be  as  infal- 
lible as  the  catholic  creed,  and  its  author  the 
very  Pope  ofthe  jurisdiction -of  letters. 

But  the  contents  of  the  volume  manifested 
most  clearly  the  pontifical  character  of  the 
illustrious  man  ;  for  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  thereof — faith  and  memory  were  all  that 
was  demanded  of  the  novice.  The  under- 
standing was  no  more  called  on  than  that  of 
Jiie  devotee  at  his  Latin  mass  book.     But  ]et 


12  THE    DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

US  enter  on  particulars.  In  the  first  place 
there  was  a  frontispiece.  We  little  folks,  how- 
ever, dicinoi  then  know  that  the  great  picture 
facing  the  title-page  was  so  denominated. 
This  frontispiece  consisted  of  two  parts.  In 
the  first  place  there  was  the  representation  of  a 
tree  laden  with  fruit  of  the  largest  description. 
It  was  intended,  I  presume,  as  a  striking  and 
alluring  emblem  of  the  general  subject,  the  par- 
ticular  branches,  and  the  rich  fruits  of  educa- 
tion. But  the  figurative  meaning  was  above 
my  apprehension,  and  no  one  took  the  trouble 
to  explain  it  to  me.  I  supposed  it  nothing  but 
the  picture  of  a  luxuriant  apple  tree,  and  it 
always  made  me  think  of  that  good  tree  in  my 
father's  orchard,  f,o  dear  to  my  palate,  the 
pumpkin  sweeting. 

There  ran  a  ladder  from  the  ground  up 
arhong  the  branches,  which  was  designed  to 
represent  the  ladder  of  learning,  but  of  this  I 
was  ignorant.  Little  boys  were  ascending 
this  in  pursuit  of  the  fruit  that  hung  there  so 
temptingly.  Others  were  already  up  in  the 
tree,  plucking  the  apples  directly  from  their 
stems  ;  while  others  were  on  the  ground 
picking  up  those  that  had  dropped  in  their 
ripeness.  At  the  very  top  of  the  tree,  with  his 
head  reared  above  all  fruit  or  foliage,  was  a 


AS   IT    WAS.  13 

bare-headed  lad  with  a  book  in  his  hand,  which 
he  seemed  intently  studying.  I  supposed  that 
he  was  a  boy  that  loved  his  book  better  than 
apples,  as  all  good  boys  should — one  who  in 
very  childhood  had  trodden  temptation  under 
foot.  But,  indeed,  it  was  only  a  boy  who  was 
gathering  fruit  from  the  topmost  boughs,  ac- 
cording to  the  figurative  meaning,  as  the  others 
were  from  those  lower  down.  Or  rather,  as 
he  was  portrayed,  he  seemed  like  one  who  had 
culled  the  fairest  and  highest  growing  apples, 
and  was  trying  to  find  out  from  a  book  where 
he  should  find  a  fresh  and  loftier  tree  upon 
which  he  might  climb  to  a  richer  repast  and 
a  nobler  distinction. 

This  picture  used  to  retain  my  eye  longer 
than  any  other  in  the  book.  It  was  probably 
more  agreeable  on  account  of  the  other  part  of 
the  frontispiece  below  it.  This  was  the 
representation  of  a  school  at  their  studies 
with  the  master  at  his  desk.  IJe  was  pictur- 
ed as  an  elderly  man,  with  an  immense  wig 
enveloping  his  head  and  bagging  about  his 
neck,  and  with  a  face  that  had  a  sort  of  half- 
way look,  or  rather,  perhaps,  a  compound  look, 
made  up  of  an  expression  of  perplexity  at  a  sen- 
tence in  parsing,  or  a  sum  in  arithmetic,  and 
a  frown  at  the  playful  urchins  in  the  distant 


14  THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

seats.  There  could  not  have  been  a  more 
capital  device  by  which  the  pleasures  of  a 
free  range  and  delicious  eating,  both  so  dear 
to  the  young,  might  be  contrasted  with  stupi. 
fying  confinement  and  longing  palates  in  the 
presence  of  crabbed  authority.  Indeed,  the 
first  thing  the  Only  Sure  Guide  said  to  its  pu- 
pil was,  play  truant  and  be  happy ;  and  most 
of  the  subsequent  contents  were  not  of  a  char- 
acter to  make  the  child  forget  this  prelimina- 
ry advice.  These  contents  I  was  going  on  lo 
describe  in  detail,  but  on  second  thought  I 
forbear,  for  fear  that  the  description  might  be 
as  tedious  to  my  readers  as  the  study  of  them 
was  to  me.  Suffice  it  to  say,  there  was  talk 
about  vowels  and  consonants,  diphthongs  and 
tripthongs,  monosyllables  and  polysyllables, 
orthography  and  punctuation,  and  even  about 
geography,  all  which  was  about  as  ititolligible 
to  us,  who  were  obliged  to  comiiil  it  to  mem- 
ory, year  after  year,  as  the  fee-faw-fum,  utter- 
ed by  the  giant  in  one  of  our  story  books. 

Perry's  spelling-book,  as  it  was  in  those 
days,  at  least,  is  now  out  of  use.  It  is  no 
where  to  be  found  except  in  fragments  in  some 
dark  corner  of  a  country  cupboard  or  garret. 
Ail  vestiges  of  it  will  soon  disappear  forever. 
What  will  the  rising  generations  do,  into  what 


AS    IT    WAS.  15 


wilds  of  barbarism  will  they  wander,  into 
what  pits  of  ignorance  fall,  without  the  aid  of 
Ihe  Only  Sure  Guide  to  the  English  tongue. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

-  t 

FIRST  WINTER  AT  SCHOOL. 

How  I  longed  for  the  winter  school  to  begin, 
to  which  I  looked  forward  as  a  relief  from  my 
do-nothing  days,  and  as  a  renewal,  in  part  at 
least,  of  the  soft  and  glowing  pleasures  of  the 
past  summer.  But  the  schoolmaster,  the  thought 
of  him  was  a  fearful  looking  for  of  frowns  and 
fcrulings.  Had  I  not  hoard  our  Ben  tell  of 
the  direful  punishments  of  the  winter  school ; 
of  the  tingling  hand,  black  and  blue  with 
twenty  strokes,  and  not  to  be  closed  for  a 
fortnight  from  soreness?  D,d  not  the  minis- 
tor  and  the  schoolmaster  of  the  preceding 
winter  visit  together  at  our  house,  one  even- 
ing, and  did  I  not  think  the  schoolmaster  far 
t'le  more  awful  man  of  the  two  ?  The  minis- 
ter took  me  in  his  lap,  gave  mo  a  kiss,  and 
told  me  about  his  own  little  Charles  at  home, 

whom  I  must  come  and  see  ;  and  he  set  me 
3 


16  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

down  with  the  impression  that  he  was  not  half 
so  terrible  as  I  had  thought  him.  But  the 
schoolmaster  condescended  to  no  words  with 
me.  He  was  as  stiff  and  unstooping  as  the 
long  kitchen  fire-shovel,  and  as  solemn  of  face 
as  a  cloudy  fast-day.  A  trifling  incident  hap- 
pened which  increased  my  dread,  and  dark- 
ened my  remembrance  of  him  by  another 
shade.  I  had  slily  crept  to  the  table  on  which 
stood  the  hats  of  our  visitors,  and  in  childish 
curiosity  had  first  got  hold  of  a  glove,  then  a 
letter,  which  reposed  in  the  crown  of  the  mag- 
isterial head-covering.  The  owner's  eye  sud- 
denly  caught  me  at  the  mischief,  and  he  gave 
me  a  look  and  a  shake  of  his  upper  extremity, 
so  full  of  "let  it  alone  or  I  will  flog  you"  in  their 
meaning,  that  I  was  struck  motionless  for  an 
hour  with  fright,  and  had  hard  work  to  dam  up, 
with  all  the  strength  of  my  quivering  lips,  a 
choking  baby  cry.  Thenceforth  schoolmas- 
ters to  my  timid  heart  were  of  all  men  the  most 
to  be  dreaded. 

The  winter  at  length  came,  and  the  first  day 
of  the  school  was  fixed  and  made  known,  and 
the  longed-for  morning  finally  arrived.  With 
hoping,  yet  fearing  heart,  I  was  led  by  Ben  to 
school.  But  my  fears  respecting  the  teacher 
were  not  realized  that  winter.     He  had  notli. 


AS    IT   WAS.  17 

ing  particularly  remarkable  -about  him  to  my 
little  mind.  He  liad  his  hands  too  full  of  the 
great  things  of  the  great  scholars  to  take  much 
notice  of  me,  excepting  to  hear  me  read  my 
Abs  four  times  a  day.  This  exercise  he  went 
through  like  a  great  machine  and  I  like  a  little 
one,  so  monotonous  was  the  humdrum  and  reg- 
ular the  recurrence  of  ab,  ebj  ib,  ob,  ub,  &c. 
from  day  to  day,  and  week  to  week.  To  recur 
to  the  metaphor  of  a  ladder  by  which  progress 
in  learning  is  so  often  illustrated,  I  was  all  sum- 
meronthe  first  round,  as  it  were,  lifting  first 
one  foot  and  then  the  other,  still  putting  it  down 
in  the  same  place,  without  going  any  higher ; 
and  all  winter  while  at  school,  I  was  as  wearily 
tap-tapping  it  on  the  second  step,  with  the  ad- 
ditional drawback  of  not  having  Mary  Smith's 
sweet  manners  to  win  me  up  to  the  stand,  help 
me  cheerfully  through  the  task,  and  set  me 
down  again  pleased  with  her  if  with  nothing 
else. 

There  was  one  circumstance,  however,  in 
the  daily  routine,  which  wa^s  a  matter  of  some 
little  excitement  and  p-easure.  I  was  put  into 
a  class.  Truly  my  littleness,  feelingly,  if  not 
actually  and  visibly,  enlarged  itst;lf,  when  I 
was  called  out  with  Sam  Allen,  Henry  Green 
and  Susan  Clark,  to  take  our  stand  on  the  floor 


18  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

as  the  sixth  class.  I  marched  up  with  the 
tread  of  a  soldier,  and  ihuiks  I  who  has  a  better 
right  to  be  at  the  head  than  myself;  so  the  head 
I  took,  as  stiff  amd  as  straight  as  a  cob.  My 
voice  too,  if  it  lost  none  of  its  treble,  was  pitch- 
ed  a  key  louder,  as  a — b  ab  rang  through  the 
realm.  And  when  we  had  finished  I  looked^ 
up  among  the  large  scholars,  as  I  strutted'to 
my  seat,  with  the  thought  •'  I  am  almost  as  big 
as  you  now,"  puffing  at  my  tiny  soul.  Now 
moreover,  I  held  the  book  in  my  own  hand,  and 
kept  the  place  with  my  own  finger,  instead  of 
standing  like  a  very  little  boy,  with  my  hands 
at  my  side,  following  with  my  eye  the  point  of 
the  mistress' scissors. 

There  was  one  terror  at  ih's  winter  school 
which  I  must  not  omit  in  this  chronicle  of  my 
childhood.  It  arose  from  the  circumstance  of 
meetirg  so  many  faces  which  I  had  never  seen 
before,  or  at  least  had  never  seen  crowded  to- 
gether  in  one  body.  All  the  great  boys  and 
girls  who  had  been  kept  at  home  during  the 
summer,  now  left  axes  and  shovels,  needles 
and  spinning-wheels,  and  poured  into  the  win- 
ter school.  There  they  sat  side  by  side,  head 
after  head,  row  above  row.  For  this  I  did  not 
care ;  but  every  time  the  master  spoke  to  mo 
for  any  little  misdemeanor,  it  seemed  as  if  all 


AS    IT    WAS.  19 

turned  their  eyes  on  my  timid  self,  and  I  felt 
petrified  by  the  gaze.  But  this  simultaneous 
and  concentrated  eye-shot  was  the  most  dis- 
tressing  when  I  happened  late,  and  was  obliged 
to  go  in  after  the  school  were  all  seated  in  front 
of  my  advance.  Those  forty — I  should  say 
eighty  eyes,  for  most  of  them  had  two  apiece — 
glancing  up  from  their  books  as  I  opened  the 
door,  were  as  much  of  a  terror  to  me  as  so 
many  deadly  gun-muzzles  would  be  to  a  raw 
military  recruit.  I  tottered  into  the  room  and 
toward  my  seat,  with  a  palsying  dismay,  as  if 
every  one  was  aiming  an  eye  for  my  destruc- 
tion. 

The  severest  duty  I  was  ever  called  to  per- 
form was  sitting  on  that  little  front  seat  at  my 
first  V  inter  school.  My  lesson  in  the  Abs  con- 
veyed no  ideas,  excited  no  interest,  and  of 
course  occupied  but  very  little  of  my  time. 
There  was  nothing  before  me  on  which  to 
lean  my  head,  or  lay  my  arms,  but  my  own 
knees.  I  could  not  lie  down  to  drowse  as  in 
summer,  for  want  of  room  on  the  crowded  seat. 
How  my  limbs  ached  for  the  freedom  and  ac- 
tivity of  play.  It  sometimes  seemed  as  if  a 
drubbing  from  the  master,  or  a  kick  across  the 
school-house  would  have  been  a  pleasant  re- 
lief. 

3» 


20  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

But  these  bonds  upon  my  limbs  were  net 
all.  1  had  trials  by  fire  in  addition.  Every 
cold  forenoon  the  old  fire-place,  wide  and  deep, 
was  kept  a  roaring  furnace  of  flume,  for  the 
benefit  of  blue  noses,  chattering  jaws  and  ach- 
ing toes,  in  the  more  distant  regions.  The 
end  of  my  seat  just  opposite  the  chimney  was 
oozy  with  melted  pitch,  and  sometimes  alndost 
smoked  with  combustion.  Judge  then  of  what 
living  flesh  had  to  bear.  It  was  a  toil  to  exist. 
I  truly  ate  the  bread  of  instruction,  or  rather 
nibbled  at  the  crust  of  it,  in  the  sweat  of  my 
face. 

But  the  pleasures  and  the  pains  of  this  sea- 
son at  school  did  not  continue  long.  Afier  a 
few  weeks  the  storms  and  drifts  of  midwinter 
kept  me  mostly  at  home.  Henry  Allen  was 
in  the  same  predicament.  As  for  Susan  Clark, 
she^did  not  go  at  all  after  the  first  three  or  four 
days.  In  consequence^of  the  sudden  change 
from  roasting  within  doors  to  freezing  without 
she  took  a  violent  cold,  and  was  sick  all  winter. 


AS   IT   WAS.  21 

CHAPTER  V. 
SECOND    SUMMER — MARY   SMITH  AGAIN. 

The  next  summer  Mary  Smith  was  the  mis- 
tress again.  She  gave  such  admirable  satis- 
faction, that  there  was  but  one  unanimous 
wish  that  she  should  be  re-engaged.  Unani- 
mous, 1  said,  but  it  was  not  quite  so,  for  Capt. 
Clark,  who  lived  close  by  the  school-ho«se» 
preferred  somebody  else,  no  matter  whom,  fit 
or  not  fit,  who  should  board  with  him,  as  the 
teachers  usually  did.  But  Mary  would  board 
with  her  aunt  Carter  ns  before.  Then  Mr, 
Patch's  family  grumbled  not  a  little,  and  tried 
to  find  fault,  for  they  wanted  their  Polly  should 
keep  the  school  and  board  at  home,  and  help 
her  mother  night  and  morning,  and  save  the 
pay  for  the  board  to  boot.  Otherwise  Polly 
must  go  into  a  distant  district,  to  less  advantage 
to  the  family  purse.  Mrs.  Patch  was  heard  to 
guess  that  "  Polly  could  keep  as  good  a  school 
as  any  body  else.  Her  edication  had  cost 
enough  any  how.  She  had  been  to  our  school 
summer  after  summer  and  winter  after  winter, 
ever  since  she  was  a  little  gal,  and  had  then 
been  to  the  'cademy  three  months  besides. 
She  had  moreover  taught  three  summers  ai- 


23  THE    DISTBICT.  StJHOOL 

ready,  and  was  twenty-one,  whereas  Mary 
Snaith  had  taught  but  two,  and  was  only  nine- 
teen." But  the  committee  had  not  such  confi- 
dence in  the  experienced  Polly's  qualifications. 
All  who  had  been  to  school  with  her  knew  that 
her  head  was  dough,  if  ever  head  was.  And 
all  who  had  observed  her  school -keeping  ca- 
reer (she  never  kept  but  once  in  the  same 
place)  pretty  soon  came  to  the  same  conclu- 
sion, notwithstanding  her  loaf  of  brains  had  been 
three  months  in  that  intellectual  oven  called  by 
her  mother  the  'cadeniy. 

So  Mary  Smith  kept  the  sciioo),  and  I  had 
another  delightful  summer  under  her  care  and 
instruclion.  I  was  four  years  and  a  half  old 
now,  and  had  grown  an  inch.  I  was  no  tiny, 
whining,  half-scared  baby,  as  in  the  first  sum- 
mer. No  indeed ;  I  had  been  to  the  winter 
school,  had  read  in  a  class,  and  had  stood  up 
at  the  fire  with  the  great  boys,  had  seen  a 
snow-ball  fight,  and  had  been  accidentally  hit 
once,  by  the  icy  missile  of  big-fisted  Joe  Swag- 
ger. 

I  looked  down  upon  two  or  three  fresh,  slob- 
bering abecedarians  wilh  a  pride  of  superiority, 
greater  perhaps  thaa  I  ever  felt  again.  We 
read  not  in  ab,  eb,  &c.,  but  in  words  that 
meant  something ;  and  before  the  close  of  ih^ 


AS   IT   WAS.  23 

summer  in  what  were  called  the  "Reading 
Lessons,"  that  is,  little  words  arranged  in  littla 
sentences. 

Mary  was  the  same  sweet  angel  this  season 
as  the  last.  I  did  Kot  of  course  need  her  sooth- 
ing  and  smiling  assiduity  as  before,  but  stiH 
she  was  a  motlier  to  me  in  tenderness.  She 
was  forced  to  caution  us  younglings  pretty 
often,  yet  it  was  cbne  with  such  sweetness  that 
a  caution  from  her  was  as  efTectual  as  would 
be  a  frown  and  indeed  a  blow  from  many  oth- 
ers. At  least,  so  it  was  with  me.  She  used 
to  resort  to  various  severities  with  the  refrac- 
tory and  idle,  and  in  one  instance  she  used  the 
ferule  ;  but  we  all  know,  and  the  culprit  knew, 
that  it  was  well  deserved. 

At  the  close  of  the  school  there  was  a  deeper 
sadness  in  our  hearts  than  on  the  last  sum- 
mer's closing  day.  She  had  told  us  that  she 
should  never  be  our  teacher  again,  should  pro- 
bably never  meet  many  of  us  again  in  this 
world.  She  gave  us  much  parting  advice  about 
loving  and  obeying  God,  and  loving  and  doing 
good  to  every  body.  She  shed  tears  as  slie 
talked  to  us,  and  that  made  our  own  flow  still 
more.  When  we  were  dismissed  the  custom- 
ary and  giddy  laugli  was  not  heard.  Many 
.were  sobbing  with  grief,  and  even  the  least  sen- 


24  THE   DISTRICT  SCUOOu 

sitive  were  softened  and  subdued  to  an  unusual 
quietness. 

The  last  time  I  ever  saw  Mary  was  Sunday 
evening  on  my  way  home  from  meeting.  As 
we  passed  Mr.  Carter's  she  came  out  to  the 
chaise  where  I  sat  between  my  parents,  to  bid 
us  good  bye.  O,  that  last  kiss,  that  last  smile, 
and  those  last  tones  !  Never  shall  I  forget 
them  so  long  as  I  have  power  to  remember,  or 
capacity  to  love.  The  next  morning  she  left 
for  her  native  town  ;  and  before  another  sum- 
mer she  was  married.  As  Mr.  Carter  soon 
moved  from  our  n^ighborlwod,  the  dear  in- 
structress never  visited  it  again. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THIRD    SUMMER MEHITABEL   HOLT    AND    OTHER 

INSTRrCTHESSES. 

Tfiis  summer  a  person  named  Mehitabel 
Holt  was  our  teacher.  It  was  with  eager  de- 
light that  I  set  out  for  school  on  the  first  morn- 
ing. The  dull  months  that  intervened  between 
the  winter  school  and  the  summer,  had  seemed 
longer  than  ever.  I  longed  for  the  companion- 
ship and  the   sports  of  school.     I  had  heard 


Jis  IT  Was*  25 

nothing  about  the  mistress,  excepting  that  she 
was  an  experienced  and  approved  one.  On  my 
way  the  image  of  something  lilie  Mary  Smith 
arose  to  my  imagination ;  a  young  lady  with 
pleeisant  face  and  voice,  and  a  winning  gentle- 
ness of  manner.  This  was  natural,  for  Mary 
was  the  only  mistress  1  had  ever  been  to,  and 
in  fact  the  only  one  I  had  ever  seen,  who  made 
any  impression  on  my  mind  in  her  school-kcep- 
mg  capacity.  What  then  was  my  surprise 
when  my  eyes  first  fell  on  Mehitabel  Holt !  I 
shall  not  descril>e  how  nature  had  made  her,  or 
time  had  altered  her.  Engaging  manners  and 
loveliness  of  character  do  not  depend  on  the 
freshness  of  youth,  fineness  of  complexion,  or 
symmetry  of  form.  She  was  not  lovely  ;  her 
first  appearance  indicated  this;  for  the  disposi- 
tion will  generally  speak  through  the  face* 
Subsequent  experience  proved  Mehitabel  to 
differ  fiom  the  dear  Mary  as  much  as  all  that 
is  sour  does  from  the  quintessence  of  sweet- 
ness. She  had  been  weli-looking,  indeed  ra- 
ther beautiful  once,  I  have  heard  ;  but  if  so, 
the  cidity  of  her  temper  had  difl'used  itself 
through,  and  lamentably  corroded  this  valued 
gift  of  nature. 

She  kept  order,  for  her  punishments  were 
horrible,  especially  to  us  little  ones.      She 


26  TUE    CISTftlCT'  6CH00L 

dungeoned  us  in  that  windowless  closet  just 
for  a  whisper.  She  tied  us  to  her  chair  post 
for  an  hour,  because  sportive  nature  tempted 
our  fingers  and  tocsinto  soniething  like  pluy. 
If  we  were  restless  on  our  seats,  wearied  of 
our  posture,  fretted  by  the  heat,  or  sick  of  the 
unintelligible  lesson,  a  twist  of  the  ear,  or  a 
snap  on  the  head,  from  her  thimbled  finger, 
reminded  us  that  sitting  perfectly  still,  was  the 
most  important  virtue  of  a  liitle  boy  in  school. 
Our  forenoon  and  afternoon  recess  was  allow- 
ed to  be  five  minutes  only;  and  even  during 
that  time  our  voiced  must  not  rise  above  the 
tone  of  quiet  conversation.  That  delightful 
exercise  of  juvenile  lungs,  hallooing,  was  a 
capital  crime.  Our  noonings^  in  which  we 
used  formerly  to  rejoice  in  the  utmost  fisedom 
of  legs  and  lungs,  were  now  like  the  noonings 
of  the  sabbath,  in  the  restraints  imposed  upon 
us.  As  Mehitabel  boarded  at  Captain  Clark's, 
any  ranging  in  the  fields,  or  raising  of  the 
voice,  was  easily  detected  by  her  watchful 
senses. 

As  the  prevalent  idea  in  those  days  rr:'>ect- 
ing  a  good  school  was,  that  there  should  be 
no  more  sound  and  motion  than  was  absolu;cly 
necessary,  Mehitabel  was,  on  the  whole,  pop- 
ular with    the  parents.       She  kept   us  still, 


XS  IT  WAS.  27 

!?ind  forced  us  to  get  our  Jessons,  and  that 
was  something  uncommon  in  a  mistress.  So 
she  WHS  employed  the  next  summer  to  keep 
our  childhood  in  bondage.  Had  her  strict 
rules  been  enforced  by  any  thing  resernbling 
Mary  Smith's  sweet  and  sympathetic  dispo- 
sition and  manners,  they  would  have  been 
endurable.  But  as  it  was,  our  schooling 
those  two  summers  was  a  pain  to  the  body, 
a  weariness  to  the  juind,  and  a  diisgust  td  the 
heart. 

I  shall  not  devote  a  separate  chapter  to  all 
tny  summer  teachers.  Wliat  more  I  may 
have  to  say  of  them  1  shall  put  into  this.  They 
were  none  of  them  like  Mehitabel  in  severity, 
nor  all  of  thena  equal  to  her  in  usefulness,  and 
none  of  them  equal  in  any  respect  to  Mary 
-Smith.  Some  were  very  young,  scarcely  six- 
teen, and  as  unfit  to  manage  that  "harp  of 
thousand  strings,"  the  human  mind,  as  is'  the 
unskilled  and  changeful  wind,  to  manage  any 
musical  instrument  by  which  science  and 
taste  delights  the  ear.  So.ne  kept  tolerable 
order,  others  made  the  attempt,  but  did  not 
succeed,  others  did  not  even  make  the  atiempt. 
All  would  doubtless  have  done  better  had  they 
been  properly  educated  and  disciplined  them- 
selves. 


28  ■  THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

After  I  was  ten  years  old  I  cea&ed  to  attend 
the  summer  school  except  in  foul  weather,  as 
in  fair  I  was  wanted  at  home  on  the  farm. 
These  scattering  days  I  and  others  of  nearly 
the  same  age,  were  sent  to  school  by  our  pa- 
rents, in  hopes  that  we  should  get  at  least  a 
snatch  of  knowledge.  But  this  rainy  day 
schooling  was  nothing  but  vanity  to  us,  and 
vexation  of  spirit  to  the  mistress.  We  could 
read  and  spell  better  than  the  younger  and 
regular  scholars,  and  were  puffed  up  with  our 
own  superiority.  We  showed  our  contempt 
for  the  mistress  and  her  orders,  by  doing  mis- 
chief ourselves,  and  leading  others  into  tempta- 
tion. 

If  she  had  the  boldness  to  apply  the  ferule 
we  laughed  in  her  face,  unless  her  blows  were 
laid  on  with  something  like  masculine  strength. 
Th  case  of  such  severity  we  waited  for  our  re- 
venge till  the  close  of  the  school  for  the  day, 
when  we  took  the  liberty  to  let  saucy  words 
reach  her  ear,  especially  if  the  next  day  was 
likely  to  be  fair,  and  we  of  course  were  not  to 
re-appear  in  her  realm  till  foul  weather  again. 


^ 


•*s  IS  wjLS.  29 

CHAPTER  VII. 

"LITTLE    BOOKS    PRESENTED     THE     LAST   DAY   OF 
THE   SCHOOL. 

There  was  one  circumstance  connected 
with  the  history  of  summer  schools  of  so  great 
importance  to  little  folks  that  it  must  not  be 
omitted.  It  was  this.  The  mistress  felt 
obliged  to  give  little  books  to  all  her  pupils  on 
the  closing  day  of  her  schooL  Otherwise  she 
would  bethought  stingy,  and  half  the  good  she 
bad  done  during  the  summer  would  be  can- 
celled by  the  omission  of  the  expected  dona- 
tions. If  she  bad  the  least  generosity,  or 
hoped  to  be  remembered  with  any  respect  and 
affection,  she  must  devote  a  week's  wages,  and 
perhaps  more  to  the  purchase  of  thgse  little  toy 
books.  My  first  present,  of  course,  was  from 
Mary  Smith.  It  was  not  a  little  book  the  first 
summer,  but  it  was  something  that  pleased  me 
more. 

The  last  day  of  the  school  had  arrived.  All, 
as  I  have  somewhere  said  before,  were  sad  that 
it  was  now  to  finish.  My  only  solace  was 
that  I  should  now  have  a  little  book,  for  I  was 
not  unmoved  in  ihe  general  expectation  that 
prevailed.     After    the    reading  and  spelling 


so?  THE  DISTRICT  SCrSOOL 

and  all  the  usual  exercises  of  the  school  wera^ 
over,  Mary  took  from  her  desk  a  pile  of  the' 
glittering  little  things  we  were  looking  for- 
What  beautiful  covers,  red,  yellow,  blue, 
green.  O,  not  the  first  buds  of  spring,  not 
the  first  rose  of  summer,  not  the  rising  m6on, 
nor  gorgeous  rainbow,  seemed  so  charming  as 
that  first  pile  of  books  now  spread  out  on  her 
lap,  as  she  sat  in  her  cliair  in  front  of  tho 
school.  All  eyes  were  now  centered  on  the- 
outspread  treasures.  Admiration  and  expecta- 
tion were  depicted  on  every  face.  Pleasure 
glowed  in  every  heart,  for  the  worst  as  well  ay 
the  best  calculated  witrh  certainty  on  a  pre- 
sent.  What  a  beautifier  of  the  countenance' 
agreeable  emotions  are !  The  most  ugly 
visaged  were  beautiful  now  with  the  radiance- 
of  keen  anticipation.  The  scholars  wer& 
called  out  one  by  one  to  receive  the  daz- 
zling  gifts,  beginning  at  the  oldest.  I  being- 
an  abcedarian  must  wait  till  the  last;  but  as^ 
I  knew  that  my  turn  would  surely  come  in  duo- 
order,  I  was  tolerably  patient.  Fut  what 
v/as  my  disappointment,  my  exceeding  bitter- 
»ess  of  grief  when  the  last  hook  on  Mary's 
lap  was  given  away,  and  my  name  not  yet 
called.  Every  one  present  had  received* 
except   myself  and    two  others  of  the  a  b  c 


AS   IT   WAS.  3l 

rank.  I  felt  the  tears  starting  to  my  eyes, 
my  lips  were  drawn  to  their  closest  pucker  to 
hold  in  my  emotions  from  audible  outcry.  I 
heard  my  fellow  sufferer  at  my  side  draw  long 
and  heavy  breaths,  the  usual  preliminaries  to 
the  bursting  out  of  grief.  This  feeling,  how- 
ever, was  but  momentary,  for  Mary  immedi- 
ately said,  Charles  and  Henry  and  Susan,  you 
may  now  all  come  to  me  together,  at  the  same 
time  her  hand  was  put  into  her  work-bag. 
We  were  at  her  side  in  an  instant,  and  in 
that  time  she  held  in  her  hand,  what?  Not 
three  little  picture  books,  but  what  was  to  us 
a  surprising  novelty,  viz.  three  little  birds 
wrought  from  sugar  by  the  confectioner's  art. 
I  had  never  seen  or  heard  of,  or  dreamed  of 
such  a  thing.  What  a  revulsion  of  delighted 
feeling  now  swelled  my  little  bosom.  "  If  I 
should  give  you  little  books,"  said  Mary,  "you 
could  not  read  them  at  present,  so  I  have  got 
for  you  what  you  will  like  better  perhaps,  and 
there  will  be  time  enough  for  you  to  have 
books  when  you  shall  be  able  to  read  them. 
So  take  these  little  birds  and  see  how  long 
you  can  keep  them."  We  were  perfectly 
satisfied,  and  even  felt  ourselves  distinguish- 
ed above   the    rest.      My  bird  was  more  to 

mo  than  all  the  songsters  in  the  air,  although 

4* 


3^  THE   DISTniCT  SCHOOL 

ft  couM  not  fly  or  sing  or  open  its  mouth,  f 
kept  it  for  years,  until  by  accident  it  was  crushed 
to  pieces  and  was  no  longer  a  bird. 

But  Susan  Clark,  I  was  provoked  at  her.^ 
Her  bird  was  nothing  to  her  but  a  piece  of 
pepperminted  sugar,  and  not  a  keepsake  fron> 
Mary  Smith.  She  had  not  left  the  sehool- 
house  before  she  had  nibbkd  off  its  bill.  But 
her  mother  was  always  tickling  her  palate 
•with  sugar-plums,  raisins,  cookies,  and  such 
like,  which  the  rest  of  us  were  not  accustom- 
ed to,  and  she  had  no  idea  that  the  sweet 
little  sugar  bird  was  made,  at  least,  was  giveri 
for  the  sake  of  her  heart  rather  than  her 
palate. 

The  next  summer  my  present  was  the 
"Death  and  Burial  of  Cock  Robin."  This 
was  from  the  dearly  loved  Mary  too.  I 
could  then  do  something  more  than  look  at 
the  pictures.  I  could  read  the  tragic  history 
which  was  told  in  versa  below  the  pictured 
representations  of  the  mournful  drama.  How 
I  used  to  gaze  and  wonder  at  what  I  saw  in 
that  little  book.  Could  it  be  that  all  this  really 
took  place  ;  that  the  sparrow  really  did  do  the 
murderous  deed  with  his  bow  and  his  arrow? 
I  never  knew  before  that  birds  had  such  things. 
Then  there  was  the  fish  with  his  dish,  the  rook 


AS  IT  Was.  S^ 

with  bis  book,  the  ow]  with  his  shovel,  &c. 
Yet  if  it  were  not  all  true  why  should  it  be 
so  pictured  and  related  in  the  book  ?  I  had 
the  impression  that  every  thing  that  was 
printed  in  a  book  was  surely  true ;  and  as 
no  one  thought  to  explain  to  me  the  nature 
of  a  fable,  I  went  on  puzzled  and  wonder- 
ing till  progressive  reason  at  length  divined 
its  meaning.  But  Cock  Robin  with  its  red 
cover  and  gilden  edges,  I  have  it  now.  It  is  the 
first  little  book  I  ever  received,  and  it  was  from 
Mary  Smith ;  and  as  it  is  the  only  tangible  me- 
mento of  her  goodness  that  I  possess,  I  shali 
keep  it  as  long  as  !  can. 

I  bad  a  similar  present  each  successive  sea- 
son so  long  as  I  regularly  attended  the  summer 
school.  What  marvels  did  they  contain  f 
How  curiosity  and  wonder  feasted  on  their 
contents !  They  were  mostly  about  giants, 
fairies,  witches,  and  ghosts.  By  this  kind  of 
reading  superstition  was  trained  up  to  a  mon- 
strous growth;  and  as  courage  could  not 
thrive  in  its  cold  and  gloomy  shadow,  it  was 
a  sickly  shoot  for  years^  Giants,  fairies, 
witches  and  ghosts  were  ready  to  pounce 
upon  me  from  every  dark  corner  in  the  day- 
time and  from  all  around  in  the  night,  if  I 
happened  to  be  alone.     I  trembled  to  go  to  bed 


34  THE   DISTEICT   SCHOOL 

alone  for  years ;  and  I  was  often  almost  pa- 
ralyzed with  horror  when  I  chanced  to  wake 
in  the  stillness  of  midnight,  and  my  ever- 
busy  fancy  presented  the  grim  and  grinning 
mages  with  which  I  supposed  darkness  to 
be  peopled. 

I  wish  I  had  all  those  little  books  now.  I 
would  keep  them  as  long  as  I  live,  and  at 
death  would  bequeath  them  to  the  national 
Lyceum,  or  some  other  institution  to  be  kept  as 
a  schoolmastei  keeps  a  pupil's  first  writing,  as 
\  specimen,  or  a  mark  to  show  what  improve- 
ment has  been  made.  Indeed,  if  improve- 
ment has  been  made  ia  any  thing,  it  has  been 
in  respect  to  children's  books,  When  1  com- 
pare the  world  of  fact  in  which  the  "Little 
Philosophers"  of  the  present  day  live,  ob- 
serve and  enjoy,  with  the  visionary  regions 
where  I  wanderel,  wondered,  believed,  and 
trembled,  I  almost  wish  to  be  a  child  again, 
to  know  the  pleasure  of  having  earliest  curi- 
osity  fed  with  fact,  instead  of  fiction  and  fol- 
ly, and  to  know  so  much  about  the  great  world 
with  so  young  a  mind. 


AS  IT  WAS. 


CHAPTER  VIIl. 


6BAMMAB tOUNG     LADY's     ACCIDENCE MXTB- 

EAY — PARSING — POPe's  ESSAY. 

On  my  fifth  summer,  at  the  age  of  seven  and 
a  half,  I  commenced  the  study  of  grammar. 
The  book  generaiiy  used  in  our  school  by  be- 
ginners, was  called  the  Young  Lady's  Acci- 
dence. I  had  the  honor  of  a  new  one.  The 
Young  Lady's  Accidence  !  How  often  have 
I  gazed  on  that  last  wor(?,  and  wondered  what 
it  meant !  Even  now,  I  cannot  define  it, 
though,  of  course,  I  have  a  guess  at  its  mean- 
ing. Let  rao  turn  thJs  very  minute  to  that 
Oracle  of  definitions^  the  venerable  Webster. 
"A  small  book  containing  the  rudiments  of 
grammar."  That  is  it,  then.  But  what  an 
intelligible  and  appropriate  term  for  a  little 
child's  book  !  The  mysterious  title,  however, 
was  most  appropriate  to  the  contents  of  the  vo- 
lume, for  they  were  all  mysterious,  and  that  for 
years,  to  my  poor  understanding. 

Well,  my  first  lesson  was  to  get  the  Parts  of 
Speech,  as  they  are  called.  What  a  grand 
achievement  to  engrave  on  my  memory  these 
ten  separate  and  strange  words !  With  what 
ardor  I  took  my  lesson  from  the  mistress^  and 


36  THE    DICTRICt    SCHOOL 

trudged  to  my  seat.  It  was  a  new  study,  and 
it  was  the  first  day  of  the  school  moreover, 
before  the  bashfulness  occasioned  by  a  strange 
teacher  had  subsided,  and  be^pre  the  spirit  of 
play  had  been  excited.  So  there  was  nothing 
at  the  mom3nt  to  divert  me  from  the  lofty 
enterprise. 

Reader,  let  your  mind's  eye  peep  into  that 
old  school-house.  See  that  little  boy  in  the 
second  high  seat  from  the  front,  in  home-made 
and  home-dyed  sea-green  cotton  jacket  and 
trowsers,  with  a  cleurr Monday  morning  collar 
turned  out  from  his  neck.  His  new  book  is 
before  him  on  the  bench,  kept  open  by  his  left 
hand.  His  right  supports  his  head  on  its  palm,, 
with  the  corresponding  elbow  pressed  on  the 
bench.  His  lips  move,  but  at  first  very  slow- 
ly.  He  goes  over  the  whole  lesson  in  a  low 
whisper.  He  now  looks  off  his  book,  and 
pronounces  two  or  three  of  the  first,  article, 
noun,  pronoun,  then  just  glances  at  the  page, 
and  goes  on  with  two  or  three  more.  He  at 
length  repeats  several  words  without  looking. 
Finally,  he  goes  through  the  long  catalogue 
with  his  eye  fastened  on  vacancy.  At  length, 
how  his  lips  flutter,  and  you  hear  the  parts  of 
speech  whizzing  from  his  tongue  like  feathered 
arrows.     A  good  simile  that.     Parts  of  speech 


AS   IT   WAS.  8T 

—they  are  indeed  arrows  of  thought,  though 
as  yet  armed  with  no  point,  and  shot  at  no 
mark.  .  * 

There,  the  rigmarole  is  accomplished.  He 
starts  up  and  is  at  the  mistress'  side  in  a  mo- 
ment. "  Will  you  hear  my  lesson,  ma'am  ?" 
As  she  takes  the  book,  he  looks  (^ectly  in 
her  face,  and  repeats  the  aforementioned 
words  loudly  and  distinctly,  as  if  there  were 
no  fear  of  failure.  He  has  got  as  far  as  the 
adverb,  but  now  he  hesitates,  his  eye  drops, 
his  lips  arc  open  ready  for  utterance,  but  the 
word  doss  not  come.  He  shu's  them,  he 
presses  them  hard  together,  he  puts  his  finger 

*to  them,  and  there  is  a  painful  hiatus  in  hi» 
recitation,  a  disconnection,  an  anti  to  the  very 
word  he  is  after.  Conjunction,  says  the  mis- 
tress.  The  little  hand  leaves  the  lips  at  the 
same  time  that  an  involuntary  "O!"  bursts 
out  from  them.  He  lifts  his  head  and  his 
eye,  and  repeats  with  spirit  the  delinquent 
word,  and  goes  on  without  hesitation  to  the 
end  of  the  lesson.  "  Very  wel',"  says  the 
teacher,  or  the  hearer  of  the  school,  for  she 

'rather  listened  to,  than  instructed  her  pupils. 
"Get  so  far  for  the  next  lesson."  The  child 
bows,  whirTs  on  his  heel,  and  trips  to  his  seat, 
mightily  satisfied  excepting  with  that  one  fail- 


38  THE   DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

ure  of  memory,  when  that  thundering  word, 
conjunction,  refused  to  come  at  his  will.  But 
that  word  he  never  forgot  again.  The  failure 
fastened  it  in  his  memory  forever.  This  sea- 
green  boy  was  myself,  the  present  historian  of 
the  scene. 

.  My  next  lesson  lagged  a  little  ;  my  third 
seemed  quite  dull ;  my  fourth  I  was  two  days 
in  getting.  At  the  end  of  the  week,  I  thought 
tha*.  I  could  get  along  through  the  world  very 
well  without  grammar,  as  my  grandfather  had 
done  before  me.  But  my  mistress  did  not  agree 
with  me,  and  I  was  forced  to  go  on.  I  con- 
trived, however,  to  make  easy  work  of  the 
study.  I  got  frequent,  but  very  short  lessons, 
only  a  single  sentence  at  a  time.  This  was 
easily  committed  to  memory,  and  would  stay 
on  till  I  could  run  up  and  toss  it  off  in  reci- 
tation, after  which  it  did  not  trouble  me  more. 
The  recollection  of  it  puts  me  in  mind  of  a 
little  boy  lugging  in  wood,  a  stick  at  a  time. 
My  teacher  was  so  ignorant  of  the  philosophy 
of  mind,  that  she  did  not  know  that  this  was 
not  as  good  a  way  as  any  ;  and,  indeed,  she 
praised  me  for  my  smartness.  The  conse- 
quence  was,  that  after  I  had  been  through  the 
book  I  could  scarcely  have  repeated  ten  lines 
o(  it,  excepting  the  very  first  and  the  very  last 


AS   IT   WAS.  39 

lessons.  Had  it  been  ideas  instead  of  words 
that  had  thiis  escaped  from  my  mind,  the  case 
would  have  been  different.  As  it  was,  the 
only  matter  of  regret  was  that  I  had  been 
forming  a  bad  habit,  and  had  imbibed  an  er- 
roneous notion,  to  wit,  that  lessons  were  to  be 
learned  simply  to  be  recited. 

The  next  winter  this  Accidence  was  com- 
mitted, not  to  memory,  but  to  oblivion  ;  for  on 
presenting  it  to  the  master  the  first  day  of 
the  school,  he  told  me  it  was  old-fashioned 
and  out  of  date,  and  I  must  have  Murray's- 
Abridgement.  So  Murray  was  purchased,  and 
I  cotnmenced  the  study  of  grammar  again, 
excited  by  the  novelty  of  a  new,  and  clean,  and 
larger  book.  But  this  soon  became  even  more 
dull  and  dry  than  its  predecessor,  for  it  was 
more  than  twice  the  size,  and  the  end  of  it  was 
at  the  most  discouraging  distance  of  months,  if 
not  of  years.  I  got  only  half  way  through 
the  verb  this  winter.  The  next  summer  I  be- 
gan the  book  again,  and  arrived  at  the  end  of 
the  account  of  the  parts  of  speech.  The 
winter  after  I  went  over  the  same  ground 
again,  and  got  through  the  rules  of  syntax, 
and  felt  that  I  had  accomplished  a  great  work. 
The  next  summer  I  reviewed  the  whole  gram- 
mar, for  the  mistress  thought  it  necessary  to 
5 


40  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

have   its   most  practical  and  important  parts 
firmly  fixed  in  the  memory,  before  attempting 
the  higher  exercises  of  the  study.      On   the 
third   winter  I  began  to  apply   ray  supposed 
knowledge   in  the  process   of  passing,    as  it 
was  termed  by  the  master.     The  very  pro- 
nunciation of  this  word  shows,  how  little  the 
teacher  exercised  the  power  of  independent 
thought.    He   had    been  accustomed   to  hear 
parse  called  pass,  and  although  the  least  re- 
flection  would  have  told  him  it  was  not  cor- 
rect— that  reflection  came  not,  and  for  years 
the  grammarians  of  our  district  school  passed. 
However,   it  was  rightly  so  called.     It   was 
passing,   as    said    exercise    was    performed ; 
passing  over,  by,  around,  away,  from  the  sci- 
ence  of  gran3mar,  without  coming  near  it,  or  at 
least  without  entering  into  it  with  much  under- 
standing of  its  nature.     Mode,   tense,   case, 
government  and  agreement  were  ever  flying 
from  our  tongues,  to  be  sure,  but  their  meaning 
was  as  much  a  mystery  as  the  hocus  pocus  of 
a  juggler. 

At  first  we  parsed  in  simple  prose,  but  soon 
entered  on  poetry.  Poetry — a  thing  which  to 
our  apprehension  differed  from  prose  in  this 
only,  that  each  line  began  with  a  capital  let- 
ter, and  ended  usually  with  a  word  sounding 


AS   IT   WAS.  41 

like  another  word  at  the  end  of  the  adjoin- 
ing line.  But  unskilled  as  we  all  generally 
were  in  the  art  of  parsing,  some  of  us  came  to 
think  ourselves  wonderfully  acute  and  dex- 
terous nevertheless.  When  we  perceived  the 
master  himself  to  be  in  doubt  and  perplexity, 
then  we  felt  ourselves  on  a  level  with  him, 
and  ventured  to  oppose  our  guess  to  his.  And 
if  he  appeared  a  dunce  extraordinary,  as  was 
sometimes  the  case,  we  used  to  put  ourselves 
into  the  potential  mnod  pretty  often,  as  we 
knew  that  our  teacher  could  never  assume  tho 
imperative  on  this  subject. 

The  fact  is,  neither  we  nor  the  teacher  enter- 
ed into  the  writer's  meaning.  The  general 
plan  of  the  work  was  not  surveyed,  nor  the 
particular  sense  of  separate  passages  examin- 
ed. We  could  not  do  it,  perhaps,  from  the 
want  of  maturity  of  mind  ;  the  teacher  did 
not,  because  he  had  never  been  accustomed 
to  any  thing  of  the  kind  in  his  own  education  ; 
and  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  could 
deviate  from  the  track,  or  improve  upon  the 
methods  of  those  who  taught  him.  Pope's 
Essay  on  Man,  was  the  parsing  manual  used 
by  the  most  advanced.  No  wonder,  then,  that 
pupil  and  pedagogue  so  often  got  bewildered 
and  lost  in  a  world  of  thought  like  this  ;  for 


42  THE   DtSTBICt  SCHOOL 

however  well  ordered  a  creation  it  might  b6, 
it  was  scarcely  better  than  chaos  to  them. 

In  closing  I  ought  to  remark,  that  all  our 
teachers  were  not  thus  ignorant  of  grammar, 
although  they  did  not,  perhaps,  take  the  best 
way  to  teach  it.  In  speaking  thus  of  this  de- 
partment of  study,  and  also  of  others,  I  have 
reference  to  the  more  general  character  of 
schoolmasters  and  schools. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     PARTICULAR    MASTER VARIOUS    METHODS 

OF  PUNISHMENT. 

I  have  given  some  account  of  my  first  win- 
ter at  school.  Of  my  second,  third,  and  fourth, 
I  have  nothing  of  importance  to  say.  The 
routine  was  the  same  in  each.  The  teachers 
were  remarkable  for  nothing  in  particular  ;  if 
they  were,  I  have  too  indistinct  a  remembrance 
of  their  characters  to  portray  them  now — so  I 
will  pass  them  by,  itnd  describe  the  teacher  of 
my  fifth. 

He  was  called  the  particular  master.  The 
scholars,  in  speaking  of  him  would  say  "  he  is 
so    particular."     The    first    morning  of  the 


AS  IT  WAS.  43 

school  he  read  us  a  long  list  of  regulations 
to  be  observed  in  school  and  out.  "  There 
are  more  rules  than  you  could  shake  a  stick 
at  before  your  arm  would  ache,"  said  some 
one.  "  And  if  the  master  should  shake  a 
stick  at  every  one  who  should  disobey  them, 
he  would  not  find  time  to  do  much  else," 
said  another.  Indeed,  it  proved  to  be  so. 
Half  the  lime  was  spent  in  calling  up  schol- 
ars  for  little  misdemeanors,  trying  to  make 
them  confess  their  faults,  and  promise  stricter 
obedience,  or  in  devising  punishments  and 
inflicting  them.  Almost  every  method  was 
tried  that  was  ever  suggested  to  the  brain 
of  pedagogue.  Some  were  feruled  on  the 
hand  ;  some  were  whipped  with  a  rod  on 
the  back ;  some  were  compelled  to  hold  out,  at 
arm's  length,  the  largest  book  that  could  bo 
found,  or  a  great  leaden  inkstand,  fill  muscle 
and  nerve,  bone  and  marrow,  were  tortured 
with  the  continued  exertion.  If  the  arm  bent 
or  inclined  from  the  horizontal  level,  it  was 
forced  back  again  by  a  knock  of  the  ruler  on 
the  elbow.  I  well  recollect  that  one  poor  fel- 
low forgot  his  suffering  by  fainting  quite  away. 
This  lingering  punishment  was  more  befiting 
the  vengeance  of  a  savage,  than  the  correc- 
tive efforts  of  a  teacher  of  the  young  in  civi- 
lized life. 

5* 


44  THE   filSTftlCT   SCHOOL 

He  had  recourse  to  another  method,  almost', 
perhaps  quite  as  barbarous.  It  was  standing 
in  a-stooping  posture,  with  the  finger  on  the 
head  of  a  nail  in  the  floor.  It  was  a  position 
not  particularly  favorable  to  health  of  body  or 
soundness  of  mind  ;  the  head  being  brought 
about  as  low  as  the  knees,  the  blood  rushing  to 
it,  and  pressing  unnaturally  on  the  veins,  caus- 
ing a  dull  pain,  and  a  staggering  dizziness. 
Tiiat  man's  judgment  or  mercy  must  have  been 
topsy-turvy  also,  who  first  set  the  example  of 
such  an  infliction  on  those  whose  progress  in 
knowledge  depended  somewhat  on  their  being 
kept  right  and  upward. 

The  above  punishments  were  sometimes 
rendered  doubly  painful  by  their  taking  place 
directly  in  front  of  the  enormous  fire,  so  that 
the  pitiable  culprit  was  roasted  as  well  as 
racked.  Another  mode  of  punishment — an 
anti-whispering  process,  was  setting  the  jaws 
at  a  painful  distance  apart,  by  inserting  a  chip 
perpendicularly  between  the  teeth.  Then  we 
occasionally  had  our  hair  pulled,  our  noses 
tweaked,  our  ears  pinched  and  boxed,  or  snap- 
ped, perhaps,  with  India-rubber — this  last  the 
perfection  of  ear-tingling  operations.  There 
were  minor  penalties,  moreover,  for  minor 
faults.      The   uneasy  urchins   were  clapped 


AS   IT  WAS.  45 

into  the  closet,  thrust  under  the  desk,  or  perch- 
ed  on  its  top.  Boys  were  made  to  sit  in  the 
girl's  seats,  amusing  the  school  with  their 
grinning  awkwardness  ;  and  girls  were  oblig- 
ed to  sit  on  the  masculine  side  of  the  aisle, 
•With  crimsoned  necks,  and  faces  buried  in 
their  aprons. 

But  I  have  dwelt  long  enough  on  the  vari- 
ous penalties  of  the  numerous  violations  of 
tnaster  Particular's  many  orders.  After  all, 
he  did  not  keep  an  orderly  school.  The 
cause  of  the  miscnief  was,  he  was  variable. 
He  wanted  that  persevering  firmness  and  uni- 
formity which  alone  can  insure  success.  He 
had  so  many  regulations,  that  he  could  not 
stop  at  all  times  to  notice  the  transgressions  of 
them.  The  scholars,  not  knowing  with  cer- 
tainty what  to  expect,  dared  to  run  the  risk  of 
disobedience.  The  consequence  of  this  pro- 
cedure on  the  part  of  the  ruler  and  the  ruled 
was,  that  the  school  became  uncommonly 
riotous  before  the  close  of  the  season.  The 
larger  scholars  soon  broke  over  all  restraint, 
but  tijenittle  ones  were  narrowly  watched  and 
restricted  somewhat  longer.  But  these  grad- 
ually grew  unmindful  of  the  unstable  authority, 
and  finally  contemned  it  with  almost  insolent 
effrontery,  unless  the  master's  temper-kindled 


46  THE    DISTBICT    SCHOOL 

eye  was  fixed  directly  and  menacingly  upon 
them.  Thus  the  many  regulations  were  like  so 
many  coWebs,  through  which  the  great  flies 
would  break  at  once,  and  so  tear  and  disorder 
the  net  that  it  would  not  hold  even  the  little 
ones,  or  at  all  answer  the  purpose  for  which  it 
was  spun. 

I  would  not  have  it  understood  that  this  mas- 
ter was  singular  in  his  punishments ;  for  such 
methods  of  correcting  offenders  have  been  in 
use  time  out  of  mind.  Ho  was  distinguished 
only  for  resorting  to  th.em  more  frequently 
than  any  other  instructer  within  my  own  ob- 
servation. The  truth  is,  that  it  seemed  to  be 
the  prevailing  opinion  both  among  teachers 
and  parents,  that  boys  and  girls  would  play 
and  be  mischievous  at  any  rate,  and  that  con. 
sequently  masters  must  punish  in  some  way 
or-other.  It  was  a  matter  of  course ;  nothing 
better  was  expected. 


^S   ITLWAS.  4t 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOW  THEY   USED   TO  READ  IN   THE  OLD  SCUOdL- 
HOUSE  IN  DISTRICT  NO.  V. 

In  this  description  of  the  District  School,  as 
it  was,  that  frequent  and  important  exercise, 
Reading,  must  not  be  omitted — Reading  as  it 
was.  Advance,  then,  ye  readers  of  the  Old 
School-house,  and  let  us  witness  your  per- 
formances. 

We  will  suppose  it  the  fir^  day  of  the 
school.  "  Come  and  read,"  says  the  mistress 
to  a  little  flaxen-headed  creature  of  doubtful 
gender,  for  the  child  is  in  petticoats,  and  sits 
on  the  female  side,  as  close  -  as  possible  to  a 
guardian  sister.  But  then  those  coarser  fea- 
tures, tanned  complexion,  and  close-clipped 
hair,  with  other  minutiae  of  aspect,  are  some- 
what contradictory  to  the  feminine  dress. 
"Come  and  read."  It  is  the  first  time  that  this 
he-or-she  was  ever  inside  of  a  school-house,  and 
in  the  presence  of  a  school-ma'am,  according 
to  recollection,  and  the  order  is  heard  with 
shrinking  timidity.  But  the  sister  whispers 
an  encouraging  word,  and  helps  "  tot"  down 
from  the  seat,  who  creeps  out  into  the  aisle, 
and  hesitates  along  down  to  the  teacher,  bit- 


48  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ing  his  fingers,  or  scratching  his  head,  perhaps 
both,  to  relieve  the  embarrassment  of  the 
novel  situation.  *'  What  is  your  name,  dear?" 
♦'  Tholomon  Ickerthon,"  lisps  the  now  discov- 
ered he,  in  a  phlemgchoked  voice,  scarce 
above  a  whisper.  "  Put  your  hands  down  by 
your  side,  Solomon,  and  make  a  bow."  He 
obeys,  if  a  short  and  hasty  jerk  of  the  head  is 
a  bow.  The  alphabetical  page  of  the  spelling- 
book  is  presented,  and  he  is  asked,  "  What's 
that  ?"  But  he  cannot  tell.  He  is  but  two 
years  and  a  half  old,  and  has  been  sent  to 
school  to  relieve  his  mother  from  trouble 
rather  than  to  learn.  No  one  at  home  has 
yet  shown  or  named  a  letter  to  him.  He  has 
never  had  even  that  celebrated  character, 
round  O,  pointed  out  to  his  notice.  It  was  an 
older  beginner,  most  probably,  who  being 
asked  a  similar  question  about  the  first  letter 
of  the  alphabet,  replied,  '*  I  know  him  by  sight, 
but  can't  tell  him  b^  name."  But  our  namesake 
of  the  wise  man  does  not  know  the  gentleman 
even  by  sight,  nor  any  of  his  twenty. five  com- 
panions. 

Solomon  Richardson  has  at  length  said 
A,  B,  C,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  He  has 
read.  "That's  a  nice  boy ;  make  another  bow, 
and  go  to  your  seat."    He  gives  another  jerk 


•AS   IT   WAS.  49 

of  the  head,  and  whirls  on  his  heel,  and  trota 
back  to  his  seat,  meeting  the  congratulatory- 
smile  of  his  sister  with  a  satisfied  grin,  which, 
put  into  language  would  be,  "  There,  I've  read, 
ha'nt  I  ?" 

The  little  chit,  at  fir§t  so  timid  and  almost 
inaudible  in  enunciation,  in  a  few  days  be- 
comes accustomed  to  the  place  and  the  exer- 
ciee ;  and  in  obedience  to  the  "  speak  up  loud, 
that's  a  good  boy,"  he  soon  pipes  off  A-er, 
B-er,  C-er,  &c.,  with  a  far-ringing  shrillness, 
that  vies  even  with  Chanticleer  himself.     Sol- 
omon went  all  the  pleasant  days  of  the  first 
summer,  and  nearly  every  day  of  the  next, 
before  he  knew  all  his  letters  by  sight,  or  could 
call  them  by  name.     Strange  that  it  should 
take  so  long  to  become  Acquainted  with  these 
twenty-six  characters,    when,   in    a    month's 
time  the   same  child   becomes  familiar  with 
the  forms  and  the  names  of  hundreds  of  ob- 
jects in  nature  around,  or  in  use  about  his  fa- 
ther's house,  shop   or  farm !     Not   so   very 
strange  neither,  if  we  only  reflect  a  moment. 
Take  a  child  into  a  party  of  twenty -six  persons, 
all  strangers,  and  lead  him  from  one  to  the 
other  as  fast  as  his  little  feet  can  patter,  telling 
iiim  their  respective  names,  all   in  less  than 
ten  minutes ;   do  this  four  times  a  day  even, 


4 

50  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

and  you  would  not  be  surprised  if  he  should 
be  weeks,  at  least,  if  not  months,  in  learning  to 
designate  them  all  by  their  names.  Is  it  any 
matter  of  surprise,  then,  that  the  child  should 
be  so  long  in  becoming  acquainted  with  the 
alphabetical  party,  when  he  is  introduced  to 
them  precisely  in  the  manner  above  describ- 
ed ?  Then,  these  are  not  of  different  heights, 
complexions,  dresses,  motions,  and  tones  of 
voice,  as  a  living  company  have.  But  there 
they  stand  in  an  unalterable  line,  all  in  the 
same  complexions  and  dress — all  just  so  tall, 
just  so  motionless,  and  mute,  and  uninterest- 
ing, and  of  course,  the  most  unrememberable 
figures  in  the  world.  No  wonder  that  some 
should  go  to  school,  and  "sit  on  a  bench, 
and  say  A  B  C,"  as  a  little  girl  said,  for  a 
whole  year,  and  still  find  themselves  strangers 
to  some  of  the  sable  company  even  then. 
Our  little  reader  is  permitted  at  length  to 
turn  a  leaf,  and  he  finds  himself  in  the  re- 
gion of  the  Abs — an  expanse  of  little  sylla- 
bles making  me,  who  am  given  to  compari- 
sons, think  of  an  extensive  plain  whereon 
there  is  no  tree,  or  shrub,  or  plant,  or  any 
thing  else  inviting  to  the  eye,  and  nothing 
but  little  stones,  stones,  stones,  all  about  the 
same  size.     And   what   must  the    poor  little 


AS   IT    WAS.  &1 

learner  do  here  ?  Why,  he  must  hop  from 
cobble  to  cobble,  if  I  may  so  call  ab,  eb,  ib, 
(fee,  as  fast  as  he  possibly  can,  naming  each 
one,  after  the  voice  of  the  teacher,  as  he  hur- 
ries along.  And  this  must  be  kept  up  until  he 
can  denominate  each  lifeless  and  uninteresting 
object  on  the  face  of  the  desert. 

After  more  or  less  months  the  weary  nov- 
ice  cecises  to  be  an  Ab-ite.  He  is  next  put 
into  whole  words  of  one  syllable,  arranged  in 
columns.  The  first  word  we  read  in  Perry 
that  conveyed  any  thing  like  an  idea,  was 
the  first  one  in  the  first  column  ;  the  word 
ache — ay,  we  did  not  easily  forget  what  this 
meant  when  once  informed — the  corresponding 
idea,  or  rather  feeling,  was  so  often  in  our  con- 
sciousness.  Ache — a  very  appropriate  term 
with  which  tq  bogin  a  course  of  education  so 
abounding  in  pains  of  body  and  of  mind. 

After  five  pages  of  this  perpendicular  read- 
ing,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  we  entered  on  the 
horizontal,  that  is,  on  words  arranged  in  sen- 
tences and  paragraphs.  This  was  reading  in 
good  earnest,  as  grown  up  folks  did,  and 
something  with  wliich  tiny  childhood  would  be 
very  naturally  puffed  up.  *'  Easy  Lessons," 
was  the  title  of  about  a  dozen  separate  chap- 


52  THE    DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

ters,  scattered  at  intervals  among  the  nume- 
rouB  spelling  columns,  like  brambly  openings/ 
here  and  there  amid  the  tall  forest.  Easy 
lessons,  because  they  consis'ed  mostly  of  little 
monosyllabic  words,  easy  to  be  pronounced. 
But  they  were  not  easy  as  it  regards  being 
understood.  They  were  made  up  of  abstract 
moral  sentences,  presenting  but  a  very  faint 
meaning  to  the  child,  if  any  at  ail.  Their  par- 
ticular application  to  his  own  conduct  he  would 
not  perceive  of  course  without  help,  and  this  it 
scarcely  ever  entered  the  head  or  the  heart  of 
the  teacher  to  afford. 

In  the  course  of  summers,  how  many  I  for- 
get, we  arrived  at  the  most  manly  and  digni- 
fied reading  the  illustrious  Perry  had  prepared 
for  us.  It  was  entitled  *'  Moral  Tales  and 
Fables."  In  these  latter,  beasts  and  birds  talk- 
ed like  men;  and  strange  sort  of  folks,  call- 
ed  Jupiter,  Mercury,  and  Juno,  were  pic- 
tured as  sitting  up  in  the  clouds,  and  talking 
with  men  and  animals  on  earth,  or  as  down 
among  them  doing  very  unearthly  things.  To 
quote  language  in  common  use,  we  kind  o'  be- 
lieved  it  all  to  be  true,  and  yet  we  kind  o* 
didn't.  As  for  the  "moral"  at  the  end,  teachers 
never  dreamed  of  attracting  our  aUeution  to 
it.     Indeed,  we  had  no  other  idea  of  all  these 


AS  IT  Wis.  53 

Easy  Lessons,  Tales  and  Fables,  than  that 
they  were  to  be  syllabled  from  the  tongue  in 
the  task  of  reading.  That  they  were  to  sink 
into  the  heart  and  make  us  better  in  life,  never 
occurred  to  our  simple  understandings. 

Among  all  the  rest  were  five  pieces  of  poe- 
try— charming  stuff  to  read,  the  words  would 
come  along  one  after  anoihsr  so  easily,  and  the 
lines  would  jingle  so  pleasantly  together  at  the 
end,  tickling  the  ear  like  two  beads  in  a  rattle. 
O  give  us  poetry  to  read,  of  all  things,  we 
thought. 

We  generally  passed  directly  from  the 
spelling-book  to  the  reading-book  of  the  first 
class,  although  we  were  ranked  the  second 
class  still.  Or  perhaps  we  took  a  book  which 
had  been  formerly  used  by  the  first  class,  for  a 
new  reading  book  was  generally  introduced 
once  in  a  kw  years  in  compliance  with  the 
earnest  recommendation  of  the  temporary 
teacher.  While  the  first  cJass  were  in  Scott^s 
Lessons,  we  of  the  second  were  pursuing  thdr 
tracks,  not  altogether  understandingly,  through 
Adams'  Understanding  Reader.  When  a  new 
master  persuaded  theai  into  Murray,  then  we 
were  admitted  into  Scott. 

The  principal  requisites  in  reading  in  these 
days,  were  to  read  fast,  mind  the  *•  stops  and 


54  THE    DISTRICT    SCllOOL 

murks,"  and  speak  up  loud.  As  for  suiting 
the  tone  to  the  meaning,  no  such  thing  was 
dreamed  of,  in  our  school  at  least.  As  much 
emphasis  was  laid  on  an  insignificant  of,  or  and, 
as  on  the  most  important  word  in  the  piece. 
But  no  wonder  we  did  not  know  how  to  vary 
our  tones,  for  we  did  not  always  know  the 
meaning  of  the  words,  or  enter  into  the  gene- 
ral spirit  of  the  composition.  This  was  very 
frequently,  indeed  almost  always  the  case  witli 
the  majority  even  of  the  first  class.  Parlia- 
mentary prose  and  Miltonic  verse  were  just 
about  as  good  as  Greek  for  the  purpose  df  mod- 
ulating the  voice  according  to  meaning.  It 
scarcely  ever  entered  the  heads  of  our  teach- 
ers to  question  us  about  the  ideas  hidden  in  the 
great,  long  words  and  specious  sentences.  It 
is  possible  that  they  did  not  always  discover  it 
themselves.  "Speak  up  there,  and  not  read  like 
a  mouse  in  a  cheese,  and  mind  your  stops," — 
such  were  the  principal  directions  respecting 
the  important  art  of  elocution.  Important  it 
was  most  certainly  considered,  for  each  class 
must  read  twice  in  the  forenoon,  and  the  same 
in  the  afternoon,  from  a  qaarter  to  a  half  an 
hour  each  lime,  according  to  the  size  of  the 
class.  Had  they  read  but  once  or  twice,  and 
but  little  at  a  time,  and  this  with  nice  and  very 


AS    IT   WAS.  55 

profitable  attention  to  tone  and  sense,  parents 
would  have  thought  the  master  most  miserably 
deficient  in  duty,  and  their  children  cheated 
out  of  their  rights,  notwithstanding  the  time 
thus  saved  should  be  most  assiduously  devoted 
to  other  all-important  branches  of  education. 

It  ought  not  to  be  omitted  that  the  Bible, 
particularly  the  New  Testament,  was  the  read- 
ing twice  a  day  generally,  for  all  the  classes 
adequate  to  words  of  more  than  one  syllable. 
It  was  the  only  reading  of  several  of  the 
younger  classes  under  some  teachers.  On 
this  practice  I  shall  make  but  a  single  remark. 
As  far  as  my  own  experience  and  observation 
extended,  reverence  for  the  sacred  volume  was 
not  deepened  by  this  constant  but  exceedingly 
careless  use. 

But  what  a  long  and  perhaps  tedious  chapter 
on  this  subject  of  reading !  I  had  no  idea  of  it 
when  I  began.  Yet  I  have  not  put  down  the 
half  that  I  could.  These  early  impressions, 
when  once  started  from  their  recesses,  how  they 
will  teem  forth  ! 


tCi  '  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 


CHAPTER  XI. 
HOW    THEY    USED    TO    SPELL. 

There,  the  class  have  read  ;  but  they  have 
something  else  to  do  before  they  take  their 
seats.  "  Shut  your  books,"  says  he  who  has 
been  hearing  them  read.  What  makes  this 
row  of  little  countenances  brighten  up  so  sud- 
denly, especially  the  uppir  end  of  it  ?  What 
wooden  faces  and  leaden  eyes,  two  minutes 
ago  !  The  reading  was  nothing  to  them— 
those  select  sentences  and  maxims  in  Perry's 
spelling-book  which  are  tucked  in  between  the 
fables.  It  is  all  as  dull  as  a  dirge  to  those 
life-loving  boys  and  girrs.  They  almost 
drowsed  while  they  stood  up  in  their  places. 
But  they  are  fully  awake  now.  They  are 
going  to  spell.  But  this  in  itself  is  the  driest 
exercise  to  prepare  for,  and  the  driest  to  per- 
form, of  the  whole  round.  The  child  cares 
no  more  in  his  heart  about  the  arrangemerat  of 
vowels  and  consonants  in  the  orthography 
of  words,  than  he  does  how  many  chips  lie 
one  above  another  at  the  school -house  wood- 
pile. But  he  does  care,  whether  he  is  at  the 
head  or  foot  of  his  class ;  whether  the  money 


AS  It  was.  SY 

(Wangles  from  his  own  neck  or  another's. 
This  is  the  secret  of  the  interest  in  spelling. 
Emulation  is  awakened,  ambition  roused. 
There  is  something  like  the  tug  of  strength 
in  the  wrestle,  something  of  the  altenation  of 
hope  and  foar  in  a  game  of  chance.  There 
has  been  a  special  preparation  for  the  trial. 
Observe  this  class  any  day,  half  an  hour  before 
they  are  called  up  to  read.  What  a  flitting 
from  top  to  bottom  of  the  spelling  column; 
and  what  a  flutter  of  lips  and  iiissing  of  utter- 
ance !  Now  the  eye  twinkles  on  the  page  to 
catch  a  word, and  now  it  is  fixed  on  the  empty 
air  while  the  orthography  is  syllabled  ovet 
and  over  again  in  mind,  until  at  length  it  is 
syllabled  on  the  memory.  But  the  time  of 
trial  has  cotne  ;  they  have  only  to  read  first. 
"  The  third  class  may  come  and  read."  "0 
dear,  I  havn't  got  my  spelling  lesson,"  mutters 
Charlotte  to  herself.  She  has  just  begun  the 
art  of  writing  this  winter,  and  she  lingered  a 
little  too  long  at  her  hooks  and  trammels. 
The  lesson  seems  to  her  to  have  as  many 
again  hard  words  in  it  as  common.  What  a 
fluster  she  is  in  !  She  got  up  above  George 
in  the  ff.rencon,  and  she  w  ould  not  get  down 
aga'n  for  any  liiing.  She  i^  as  slow  in  com- 
ing from  her  seat  as  sha  po83ibly  can  be  and 


58  THE   DiSTBICT   SCHOOL 

keep  moving.  She  makes  a  chink  in  her  book 
with  -her  finger,  and  every  now  and  then  du- 
ring the  reading  exercise,  steals  a  glance  at  a 
difBcult  word. 

But  the  reading  is  over,  and  what  a  bright- 
ening up,  as  was  said  before,  with  the  excep- 
tion,  perhaps,  of  two  or  three  idle  or  stupid  boys 
at  that  less  honorable  extremity  of  the  class 
called  the  foot.     That  boy  at  the  head — no,  it 
was  a  boy,  but  Harriet  has  at  length  got  above 
him,  and  when  girls   once    get  to  the  head, 
get  them   away  from  it  if  you  csui.      Once 
put  the  "pride  of  place"   into  their  hearts, 
and  how  they  will  queen  it.     Then  they  are 
more    sensitive,    regarding    any    thing    that 
might    lower    them    in    the  eyes  of   others, 
and  seem  the  least  like    disgrace.      I  have 
known  a   little  girl  to  cry  the    half  of   one 
day,  and  look   melancholy  the   whole  of  the 
next,  on  losing  her  place  at  the  head.     Girls 
are  more  likely  to  arrive  at,  and  keep  the  first 
place  in  the  class  in  consequence  of  a  little 
more  help  from  mother  nature  than  boys  get. 
I  believe  that  they  generally  have  a  memory 
more   fitted  for   catching  and  holding  words 
and  other  signs  addressed  to  the  eye,  than  the 
other  sex.     That  girl  at  the  head  has  studied 
her  spelling  lesson  until  she  is  as  confident  ol 


as  IT  WAS.  59 

of 'every  word  as  the  unerring  Perry  himself. 
She  can  spell  every  word  in  the  column  in 
the  order  it  stands  without  the  master's  "put- 
ting it  out,"  s!ie  has  been  over  it  so  many 
times.  Now,  Mr.  James,  get  up  again  if  you 
can,  thinks  Harriet.  1  pity  you,  poor  girl,  for 
James  has  an  ally  that  will  blow  over  your 
proud  castle  in  the  air.  Old  Boreas,  the  king 
of  the  winds,  will  order  oxit  a  snow-storm  by 
and  bye,  to  block  up  the  roads  so  that  none 
but  booted  and  weather-proof  males  can  get  to 
school,  and  you,  Miss,  must  lose  a  day  or  two, 
and  then  find  yourself  at  the  foot  with  those 
block-head  boys  who  always  abide  there.  But 
let  it  not  be  thought  that  all  those  foot  lads 
are  deficient  in  intellect.  Look  at  them 
when  the  master's  back  is  turned,  and  you  will 
sec  mischievous  ingenuity  enough  to  convince 
you  that  they  might  surpass  even  James  and 
Harriet,  had  some  other  faculties  been  called 
into  exercise  besides  tlie  mere  memory  of  verb- 
al ities. 

The  most  extraordinary  spelling,  and  in- 
deed  reading  machine  nn  our  scl.ool  was  a  boy 
whom  I  shall  call  Memorus  Wordwell.  He 
was  mighty  and  wonderful  in  the  acquisition 
and  remembrance  of  words — of  signs  with' 
out  the  ideas  signified.    The  alphabet  he  ac- 


rtO  THE   BISTRICT   SCHOOL 

quired  at  horre  before  he  was  two  years  old. 
What  exultation  of  parents,  what  exclamation 
from  admiring  visiters.  "  There  was  never 
any  thing  hke  it !"  He  had  almost  accom- 
plished his  Abs  before  he  was  thought  old 
enough  for  school.  At  an  earlier  age  than 
usual,  however,  he  was  sent,  and  then  he  went 
from  Ache  to  Abomination  in  half  the  summers 
and  winters  it  took  the  rest  of  us  to  go  over 
the  same  space.  Astonishing  how  quickly  he 
mastered  column  after  column,  section  after 
section  of  obstinate  orthographies.  Those 
martial  terms  I  have  just  used,  together  with 
our  hero's  celerity,  put  me  in  mind  of  Caesar. 
So  I  will  quote  him.  Memorus  might  have 
said  in  respect  to  the  hosts  of  the  spelling- 
book,  "  I  came,  I  saw,  I  conquered."  He  gen- 
erally stood  at  tlie  head  of  a  class,  each  one 
of  whom  was  two  years  his  elder.  Poor  crea- 
tures, they  studied  hard  some  of  them,  but  it 
did  no  good  ;  Memorus  Wordwell  was  born  to 
be  above  them,  as  some  men  are  said  to  have 
been  "  born  to  command."  At  the  public  ex- 
amination of  his  first  winter,  the  people  of  the 
district,  and  even  the  minister  thouglit  it  mar- 
vellous that  such  monstrous  great  words  should 
be  mastered  by  "such  a  leetle  mile  of  a 
buy  !"     Mcmoius  was  mighty  also  in  saying 


AS   IT   WXS.  61 

those  after  spelling  matters,  the  Key,  the  Ab- 
breviations, the  Punctuation,  &c.  These 
things  were  deemed  of  great  account  to  be 
laid  up  in  remembrance,  although  they  were 
all  very  imperfectly  understood,  and  some  of 
them  not  understood  at  all. 

Punctuation — how  many  hours,  days  and 
even  weeks,  have  I  tugged  away  to  lift,  as  it 
were,  to  roll  up  into  the  store-house  of  my 
memory,  the  many  long,  heavy  sentences 
comprehended  under  this  title.  Only  survey 
(we  use  this  word  when  speaking  of  considera. 
ble  space  and  bulk,)  only  survey  the  first  sen- 
tence, a  transcript  of  which  I  will  endeavor  to 
locate  in  these  narrow  bounds.  I  would  have 
my  readers  of  the  rising  generation  know  what 
mighty  labors  we  little  creatures  of  five,  six  and 
seven  years  old  were  set  to  perform. 

"  Punctuation  is  the  art  of  pointing,  or  of  di- 
viding a  discourse  into  periods  by  points,  ex- 
pressing the  pauses  to  be  made  in  the  reading 
thereof,  and  regulating  the  cadence  or  elevation 
of  the  voice." 

There,  I  have  labored  weeks  on  that ;  for 
I  always  had  that  lamentable  defect  of  mind 
not  to  be  able  to  commit  to  memory  what  I 
did  not  understand.  My  teachers  never  a  ded 
me  with  the  least  explanation  of  the  above- 


62  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

copied  sentence,  nor  of  other  reading  of  a 
similar  character,  wliich  was  lilievvise  to  be 
committed  to  memory.  But  this  and  all  waa 
nothing,  as  it  were,  to  Memorus  Wordwell. 
He  was  a  very  Hercules  in  this  wilderness  of 
words. 

Master  Wordwell  was  a  remarkable  reader 
too.  He  could  rattle  off  a  word  as  extensive 
as  the  name  of  a  Russian  noble,  when  he  was 
but  five  years  old,  as  easily  as  the  schoolmas- 
ter himself.  "He  can  read  in  the  hardest  chap- 
ters of  the  Testament  as  fast  agin  as  I  can," 
said  his  mother.  "I  never  did  see  nethingbeat 
it,"  exclaimed  his  father,  "he  speaks  up  as 
loud  as  a  minister."  But  I  have  said  enough 
about  this  prodigy.  I  have  said  thus  much  be. 
cause  that  although  he  was  thought  so  sur. 
passingly  bright,  he  was  the  most  decided  ninny 
in  the  school.  The  fact  is,  he  did  not  know 
what  the  sounds  he  uttered  meant.  It  never 
entered  his  head  nor  the  heads  of  his  parents 
and  most  of  his  teachers,  that  words  and  sen- 
tences were  written,  and  should  be  read  only  to 
be  understood.  He  lost  some  of  his  reputation, 
however,  when  he  grew  up  toward  twenty-one, 
and  it  was  found  that  numbers  in  more  senses 
(than  one,  were  far  above  him  in  arithmetic. 


AS  IT  WAS.  63 

One  little  anecdote  about  Memorgs  Word- 
well  before  we  let  him  go,  and  this  long  chap- 
ter shall  be  no  longer. 

It  happened  one  day  that  the  "cut  and  split" 
for  the  fire  fell  short,  and  Jonas  Patch  was  out 
wielding  the  axe  in  school  time.  He  had  been 
at  work  about  half  an  hour,  when  Memorus, 
who  was  perceived  to  have  less  to  do  than  the 
rest,  was  sent  out  to  take  his  place^  He  weis 
about  ten  years  old,  and  four  years  younger 
than  Jonas.  "  Memorus,  you  may  go  out  and 
spell  Jonu'?."  Our  hero  did  not  think  of  the 
Yankee  sense  in  which  the  master  used  the 
word  spell,  indeed  he  had  never  attached  but 
one  meaning  to  it  whenever  it  was  used  with 
reference  to  itself.  He  supposed  the  master 
was  granting  him  a  ride  extraordinary  on  his 
favorite  hobby.  So  he  put  his  spelhng-book 
under  his  arm  and  was  out  at  the  wood-pile  with 
the  speed  of  a  boy  rushing  to  play. 

"Ye  got  yer  speiiin  lesson,  Jonas?"  waS|| 
his  'first  salutation.  "  Haven't  looked  at  it  "^ 
yet,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  mean  to  cut  up  this 
plaguy  great  log,  spellin  or  no  spellin,  before 
I  go  in.  I  had  as  lieve  keep  warm  here  chop, 
in  wood,  as  freeze  up  there  in  that  tarnal  cold 
back  seat."  "  Well,  the  master  sent  me  out  to 
hear  you  spell."  "  Did  he  ?  well,  put  out  the 
7 


ft4  THE    DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

words  and  I'll  spell."  Memorus  being  so  o^s- 
tinguished  a  speller,  Jonas  did  not  doubt  but 
that  he  was  really  &ent  out  on  this  errand.  So 
our  deputy  spelling-master  mounted  the  top  of 
the  wood-pile,  just  in  front  of  Jonas,  to  put  out 
words  to  his  temporary  pupil  who  still  kept  on 
putting  out  chips. 

"  Do  you  know  where  the  lesson  begins,  Jo- 
nas ?"     "  No,  I  don't,  but  I  spose  J  shall  find 
out  now."     "  Well,   here  'tis."     (They  both 
belonged  to  the  same  class.)     "Spell  A-bom- 
i-na-tion."  Jonas  spells.    A-b-o-m  bom  a-bona 
(in  the  mean  time  up  goes  the  axe  high   in 
air,  i  a-bomi  (down  it  goes  again  chuck  into 
the  wood)  n-a  na  a-bom-i-na  (up  it  goes  again) 
t-i-o-n  tion,  a-bom-i-na-tion,  chuck  the  axe  goes 
again,  and  at  the  same  time  out  flics  a  furious 
chip   and  hits   Memorus   on   the   nose.      At 
this    moment  <he    master   appeared  just    at 
the  corner  of  the  Sulwol-house,  with  one  foot 
still  on  the  threshold.     ^  Jonas,  why  don't  you 
eome  in  ?  didn't  I  send  Mernorus  out  to  spell 
you  ?"     "  Yes,  sir,  and   he   has  beer,  spelling 
me ;  how  could  I  come  in  if  he  spell  me  here  ?" 
At  this   the  master's   eye   caught   Memorus 
perched  upon  the  top  stick,  with  his  book  open 
upon  his  lap,  rubbing  his  nose,  and  just  in  the 
act  of  putting  out  the  next  word  of  the  column. 


iS  IT   WAS.  66 

Ac-com-mo-da-tion,  pronounced  Memorus  in  a 
broken  but  louder  voice  than  before,  for  ^he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  noaster,  and  he  wished 
to  let  him  know  that  he  was  doing  his  duty. 
This  was  too  much  for  the  master's  gravity. 
He  perceived  the  mistake,  and  without  saying 
more,  wheeled  back  into  the  school-room,  al- 
most bursting  with  the  most  tumultuous  laugh 
he  ever  tried  to  suppress.  The  scholars  won- 
dered  at  his  looks  and  grinned  in  sympathy. 
Bat  in  a  few  minutes  Jonas  came  in,  followed 
-  by  Memorus  with  his  spelling-book,  who  ex- 
claimed, "I  have  heard  him  spell  clean  through 
the  whole  lesson,  and  he  didn't  spell  hardly 
none  of 'em  right."  The  master  could  hold  in 
no  longer,  and  the  scholars  perceived  the  blun- 
der, and  there  was  one  simultaneous  roar  from 
pedagogue  and  pupils ;  the  scholars  laughing 
twice  as  loud  and  uproariously  in  consequence 
of  being  permitted  to  laugh  in  school-time,  and 
to  do  it  with  the  accompaniment  of  the  master. 


66  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOt 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MR.  SPOUTSOtJND,    THE    SPEAKING  MASTER TUZ 

EXHIBITION. 

Now  comes  winter,  the  sixth  of  my  district 
education.  Our  master  was  as  insignificant  a 
personage  as  is  often  met  with  beyond  the  age 
of  twenty-one.  He  ought  to  have  been  peda- 
gogue in  that  land  of  littleness,  Lilliput.  Our 
great  fellows  of  the  back  seat  might  have  tossed 
him  out  of  the  window  from  the  palm  of  the 
hand.  But  he  possessed  certain  qualifications, 
and  pursued  such  a  course  that  he  was  per^ 
mitted  to  retain  the  magisterial  seat  througU 
his  term,  and  indeed  was  quite  popular  on  the 
whole. 

He  was  as  remarkable  for  the  loudness  ancJ 
compass  of  his  voice,  as  for  the  diminutiveness 
of  his  material  dimensions.  How  such  a  body 
of  sound  could  proceed  from  so  bodiless  an  ex- 
istence, was  a  marvel.  It  seemed  as  unnatu- 
ral as  that  a  tremendous  thunder  clap  should 
burst  from  a  speck  of  cloud  in  the  sky.  He 
generally  sat  with  the  singers  on  the  Sabbath, 
and  drowned  the  feebler  voices  with  the  inunda- 
tion of  his  bass. 


AS   IT  WAS.  67 

But  it  was  not  with  his  tuneful  powers 
alone  that  he  "  astonished  the  natives."  He 
was  imagined  to  possess  great  gifts  of  oratory- 
like  wise.  "  What  a  pity  k  is  that  he  had  not 
been  a  minister,"  was  said.  It  was  by  his  en- 
dowments and  taste  in  this  respect  that  he 
made  himself  particularly  memorable  in  our 
school.  Mr.  Spoutsound  had  been  one  quar- 
ter to  an  academy  where  declamation  was  a 
weekly  exercise.  Finding  in  this  ample  scope 
for  his  vocal  extraordinariness  (a  long-winded 
word,  to  be  sure,  but  so  appropriate)  he  be- 
came an  enthusiastic  votary  to  the  Ciceronian 
art.  The  principal  qualification  of  an  orator 
in  his  view  was  height,  depth  and  breadth  of 
utterance — quantity  of  sound.  Of  course 
he  fancied  himself  a  very  lion  in  oratory.  In- 
deed, as  far  as  roaring  would  go,  he  was  a  lion. 
This  gentleman  introduced  declamation,  or  the 
speaking  of  pieces,  as  it  was  called,  into  our 
school.  He  considered  **  speaking  of  the  ut- 
most consequence  in  this  country,  as  any  boy 
might  be  called  to  a  seat  in  the  legislature,  per- 
haps in  the  course  of  things."  It  was  a  novelty 
to  the  scholars,  and  they  entered  with  their 
whole  souls  into  the  matter.  It  was  a  pleasant 
relief  to  the  dullness  of  the  old-fashioned  rou- 
tine. 

7* 


6d  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

What   a   rumaging  of     books,    pamphlets 
and  newspapers  now  took  place,  to  find  pieces 
to  speak  !     Tli%  American  Preceptor,  the  Co- 
lumbia '  Orator,  th«;  Art  of  Reading,   Scot's 
Elocution,  Webster's  Third  Part,  and  I  know 
not  how  many  other  ancients  were  taken  down 
from  their  dusty  retirement  at  home  for  the 
sake  of  the  specimens  of  eloquence  they  afford- 
ed.    Those   pieces  were  deemed  best  b)'  us 
grandsons  of  the  Revolutionists  which  most 
abounded  in   those  glorious  words,  Freedom, 
Liberty,  Independence,   and  other  spirit-kind- 
ling  names  and  phras3S,  that  might  be  men- 
tioned.    Another  recommendation  was  high- 
flown   language,   and   especially    words  that 
were  long  and  sonorous,  such  as  would  roll 
thunderingly  from  the  tongue.     For  like  our 
district  professor  we   had  the  impression  that 
noise  was  the  most  important  quality  in  elo- 
quence.     The  first,  the  second  and  the  third 
requisite  was  tho  same  ;  it  was  noise,  noise, 
noise.     Action,  however,  or  gesticulation,  was 
not  omitted.    This  was  considered  the  next 
qualification  of  the  good  orator.     So  there  was 
the  most  vehement  swinging  of  arms,  shaking 
of  fists,  and  waving  of  palms.    Tiiat  occasional 
motion  of  the  hrab  and  force  of  voice,-  called 
emphasis,  was  not  a  characteristic  of  our  elo- 


AS    IT    WAS.  69 

quence,  or  rather  it  was  all  emphasis.  Our 
utterance  was  something  like  the  continuous 
ruar  of  a  svvoln  brook  over  a  mill-dam,  and  our 
action  like  the  unintermitted  whirling  and  clap- 
ping of  adjacent  machinery. 

We  tried  our  talent  in  the  dramatic  way 
likewise.  There  were  numerous  extracts  from 
dramatic  compositions  scattered  through  the 
various  reading  books  we  had  mustered.  These 
dialogistic  performances  were  ev^en  more  inter- 
esting than  our  speechifying  in  the  semblance 
of  lawyers  and  legislators.  We  more  easily 
acquired  an  aptitude  for  this  exercise,  as  it  was 
somewhat  like  that  everyday  affair,  conversa- 
tion. In  this  we  were  brought  face  to  face, 
voice  to  voice,  with,  each  other,  and  our  social 
sympathies  were  kindled  into  glow.  We  talked 
with,  as  well  as  at  folks.  Then  the  temale 
portion  of  the  school  could  take  a  part  in  the 
performance ;  and  who  does  not  know  that 
dialoguing,  as  well  as  dancing,  has  twice  the 
zesv  with  a  female  partner.  The  whole  school, 
with  tUe  exception  of  the  very  least,  perliaps, 
were  engaged,  indeed  absorbed  in  this  nove} 
branch  of  education  introduced  by  Mr.  Spout- 
sound.  Some  who  had  not  got  out  of  their  A  bs, 
were  taught  by  admiring  fathers  and  mothers 
at  home,  little  pieces  by  rote,   and  made  to 


TO  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

screetcb  them  out  with  a  most  ear-spHtting  exe- 
cution.  One  lad  in  this  way  committed  to 
memory  that  famous  piece  of  self-puffery  be- 
ginning with  the  lines — 

"  You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age, 
To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage." 

Memorus  Wordwell  committed  to  memory 
and  parroted  forth  that  famous  speech  of  Pitt,  in 
which  he  so  eloquently  replies  to  the  charge  of 
being  a  young  man. 

Cicero  at  Athens  was  not  more  assiduous  in 
seeking  the  immense  and  the  infinite  in  elo- 
quence, than  we  were  in  seeking  the  gi-eat  in 
speaking.  Besides  half  an  hour  of  daily  school 
time  set  apart  for  the  exercise  under  the  im- 
mediate direction  and  exemplification  of  the 
master,  our  noonings  were  devoted  to  the  same, 
as  far  as  the  young's  ruling  passion,  the  love 
of  play  would  permit.  And  on  the  way  to 
and  from  school,  the  pleasure  of  dialogue  would 
compete  with  that  of  dousing  each  other  into 
the  snow.  We  even  "  spoke"  while  doing  our 
night  and  morning  work  at  home.  A  boy 
might  be  seen  at  the  wood-pile  hacking  at  a  log 
and  a  dialogue  by  turns.  Or  perhaps  after  dis- 
pensing the  fodder  to  the  tenants  of  the  barn, 
he  would  mount  a  half-cleared  scaffold  and  out- 
bellow  the  wondering  beeves  below. 


AS   \T   WAS.  71 

As  the  school  drew  towards  a  close,  Mr. 
Spoutsound  proposed  to  have  an  exhibition  in 
addition  to  the  usual  examination,  on  the  last 
day,  or  rather  the  evening  of  it.  Our  oratori- 
Gal  gifts  and  accomplishments  must  be  pubUcly 
displayed ;  which  is  next  to  publicly  using 
them  in  the  important  affairs  of  the  town,  the 
stale,  or  the  country. 

"  An  Exhibition  ! — I  want  to  know  !  can  it 
be  ?"  There  had  never  been  any  thing  like 
it  in  the  district  before — nor  indeed  in  the 
tpwn.  Such  a  thing  had  scarcely  been  heard 
of  except  by  some  one  whose  uncle  or  cousin 
had  been  to  the  academy,  or  to  college.  The 
people  of  the  district  were  wide  awake.  The 
younger  portion  of  them  could  hardly  sleep 
nights. 

The  scholars  are  requested  to  select  the 
pieces  they  would  prefer  to  speak,  whether 
speeches  or  dialogues ;  and  to  arrange  among 
themselves  who  should  be  fellow  partners  in 
the  dramatical  performances.  The  master, 
however,  retained  the  right  of  veto  on  their 
choice.  Now,  what  a  rustle  of  leaves  and  flut- 
ter of  lips  in  school  hours,  and  noisier  flapping 
of  books  and  clatter  of  tongues  at  noon,  in  set- 
tling  who  shall  have  which,  and  who  speak 
with  whom.     At  length   all  is  arranged,  and 


72  THE    DTSTRICT    SCHOOL 

mostly  to  the  minds  of  all.  Then  for  a  week 
or  two  before  the  final  consummation  of  things 
eloquent,  it  was  nothing  but  rehearsal.  No 
pains  were  spared  by  any  one  that  he  might  be 
perfect  in  the  recollection  and  flourishing  off  of 
his  part.  Dialogists  were  grouped  together 
in  every  corner.  There  was  a  buzz  in  the 
back  seat,  a  hum  in  the  closet,  a  screech  in 
the  entry,  and  the  very  climax  of  vociferation 
in  the  spelling  floor.  Here  the  solos  (if  I  may 
borrow  a  term  from  music)  were  rehearsed 
under  the  immediate  criticism  of  Mr.  Spout- 
sound,  vvliose  chief  delight  was  in  forensic  and 
parliamentary  eloquence.  The  old  school- 
house  was  a  little  Babel  in  the  confusion  of 
tongues. 

The  expected  day  at  length  arrives.  There 
must  be  of  course  the  usual  examination  in  the 
afternoon.  But  nobody  attended  this  but  the 
minister  and  the  committee  who  engaged  the 
master.  The  people  of  the  district  all  intended 
to  be  at  the  exhibition  in  the  evening,  and  ex- 
amination was  "just  nothing  at  all"  with  that  in 
prospect.  And  in  fact  it  was  just  nothing  at 
all,  for  the  "  ruling  passion"  had  swallowed  up 
very  much  of  the  time  that  should  have  been 
devoted  to  the  really  important  branches  of 
education. 


AS   IT   WAS.  78 

After  the  finishing  of  the  school,  a  stage  was 
erected  at  the  end  of  the  spelling-floor,  next 
to  the  desk  and  the  closet.  It  was  huug 
round  with  checked  bed-blankets,  in  the  sem- 
blance of  theatrical  curtains,  to  conceal  any 
preparations  that  might  be  necessary  between 
the  pieces. 

The  exhibition  was  to  commence  at  half- 
past  six.  Before  that  time  the  old  school- 
house  was  crowded  to  the  utmost  of  its  capac- 
ity for  containing,  by  the  people  not  only  of 
our  district,  but  of  other  parts  of  the  town. 
The  children  were  wedged  into  chincks  too 
narrow  for  the  admission  of  the  grown  up. 
Never  were  a  multitude  of  living  bodies  more 
completely  compressed  and  amalgamated  into 
one  continuous  mass. 

On  the  front  writing  bench,  just  before  the 
stage,  and  facing  the  audience,  sat  the  four 
first,  and  some  of  the  most  interesting  per- 
formers on  the  occasion — viz.,  players  on  the 
clarionet,  violin,  bass-viol,  and  bassoon.  But 
they  of  the  bow  were  sorely  troubled  at  first. 
Time  and  space  go  together  with  them,  you 
know.  They  cannyt  keep  the  first  without 
possessing  the  latter.  As  they  sat,  their  semi- 
breves  were  all  shortened  into  minims,  indeed 
into  crotchets,  for  lack  of  elbow  room.     At 


74  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

length  the  violinist  stood  up  straight  on  the 
writing-bench,  so  as  to  have  an  unimpeded 
stretch  in  t"he  empty  air,  above  the  thicket  of 
heads.  His  fellow-sufferer  then  contrived  to 
stand  so  that  his  long  bow  could  sweep  freely  be- 
tween  the  steady  heads  of  two  broad-shoulder- 
ed  men,  out  of  danger  from  joggling  boys. 
This  band  discoursed  what  was  to  our  ears 
most  eloquent  music,  as  a  prelude  to  the  mu- 
sical eloquence  which  was  to  be  the  chief  en- 
tertainment  of  the  occasion.  They  played  in- 
termediately also,  and  gave  the  winding-off 
flourish  of  sound. 

At  forty  minutes  past  six  the  curtain  rose — 
that  is,  the  bed  blankets  were  pulled  aside. 
There  stood  Mr.  Spoutsound  on  the  stage,  in 
all  the  pomp  possible  to  diminutiveness.  He 
advanced  two  steps,  and  bowed  as  profoundly 
from  height  to  depth  as  his  brevity  of  stature 
would  admit.  He  then  opened  the  exhibition 
by  speaking  a  poetical  piece  called  a  Prologue, 
which  he  found  in  one  of  the  old  reading 
books.  As  this  was  originally  composed  as  an 
introduction  to  a  stage  performance,  it  was 
thought  appropriate  on^this  occasion.  Mr. 
Spoutsound  now  put  forth  in  all  the  plenitude 
of  his  utterance.  It  seemed  a  vocal  cataract, 
all  torrent,  thunder,  and  froth.     But  it  wanted 


AS   IT   WAS.  75 

room — an  abyss  to  empty  into,  and  all  it  had 
was  the  remnant  of  space  left  in  our  little 
school-room.  A  few  of  the  audience  were 
overwhelmed  wiih  the  pour,  and  rush,  and  roar 
of  the  pent-up  noise,  and  the  rest,  with  admira- 
tion, yea,  astonishment,  that  tite  schoolmaster 
"  could  speak  so." 

He  ceased — it  was  all  as  still  as  if  every 
other  voice  had  died  of  envy.  He  bowed — 
there  was  then  a  general  breathing,  as  if  the 
vocals  were  just  coming  to  life  again.  Ho 
sat  down  on  a  chair  placed  on  the  stage,  then 
there  was  one  general  buzz,  above  which  , 
arose,  here  and  there,  a  living  and  loud  voice. 
Above  this,  soon  arose  the  exaltation  of  the 
orator's  favorite  march  ;  for  he  deemed  it 
proper  that  his  own  performance  should  be 
separated  from  those  of  his  pupils  by  some 
length  and  loftiness  of  music. 

Now  the  exhibition  commenced  in  good 
earnest.  The  dramatists  dressed  in  costumes 
according  to  the  character  to  be  sustained, 
as  far  as  all  the  old  and  odd  dresses  that 
could  be  mustered  up,  would  enable  them  to 
do  so.  The  district,  aiid  indeed  the  town,  had 
been  ransacked  foi:  revolutionary  coats  and 
cocked-up  hats,  and  other  grand-fatherly  and 
grand-motherly  attire.  The  people  present 
8 


76  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

were  quite  as  much  amused  with  the  specta- 
cle as  with  the  speaking.  To  see  the  old 
fashions  on  the  young  -folks,  and  to  see  the 
young  folks  personating  characters  so  entirely 
opposite  to  their  own  ;  for  instance,  the  slim, 
pale-faced  youth,  by  the  aid  of  stuffing,  look- 
ing, and  acting  the  fat  old  wine-bibber  ;  the 
blooming  girl  of  seventeen,  putting  on  the  cap, 
the  kerchief,  and  the  character  of  seventy-five, 
&c.,  all  this  was  ludicrously  strange.  A  very 
refined  taste  might  have  observed  other  things 
that  were  strangely  ludicrous  in  the  elocution 
and  gesticulation  of  these  disciples  of  Mr. 
Spoutsound,  but  most  of  the  company  present 
were  so  fortunate  as  to  perceive  no  bad  taste 
to  mar  their  enjoyment. 

The  little  boy  of  five  spoke  the  little  piece — 

"  You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age,  &c." 

I  recollect  another  line  of  the  piece  which 
has  become  singularly  verified  in  the  history 
of  the  lad.     It  is  this — 

"  Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow." 

Now  this  acorn  of  eloquence,  which  sprout- 
ed forth  so  vigorously  on  this  occasion,  has  at 
length  grown  into  a  mighty  oak  of  oratory 
on  his  native  hills.     Fie  has  flourished  in  q^ 


AS  IT  Was.  77 

Fourth  of  July  oration  before  his  fellow-towns- 
men. 

Memorus  Wordwell,  who  at  this  time  was 
eleven  years  old,  yelped  forth  the  aforemen- 
tioned speech  of  Pitt.  In  the  part  replying  to 
the  taunt  that  the  author  of  the  speech  was  a 
young  man,  Memorus  "beat  all."  Next  to 
the  master  himself,  he  excited  the  greatest 
admiration,  and  particularly  in  his  father  and 
mother. 

But  this  chapter  must  be  ended,  so  we 
will  skip  to  the  end  of  this  famous  exhibition. 
At  a  quarter  past  ten  the  curtain  dropped  for 
the  last  time — that  is,  the  bed  blankets  were 
pulled  down  and  put  into  the  sleighs  of  their 
owners,  to  be  carried  home  to  be  spread  over 
the  dreamers  of  acts,  instead  of  being  hung 
before  the  actors  of  dreamst  The  little  boys 
and  girls  did  not  get  to  bed 'till  eleven  o'clock 
that  night,  nor  all  of  them  to  sleep  till  twelve. 
They  were  never  more  the  pupils  of  Mr.  Spout- 
sound.  He  soon  migrated  to  one  of  the  states 
beyond  the  Alleghany.  There  he  studied  law 
not  more  than  a  year  certainly,  and  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  Bar.  It  is  rumored  that  he  soon 
spoke  himself  into  the  legislature,  and  as  soon 
spoke  himself  out  again.  Whether  he  will 
speak  himself  into  Congress  is  a  matter  of  ex- 


73  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ceeding  doubt.  I  have  nothing  more  to  add 
respecting  the  speaking  master,  or  the  speak- 
ing, excepting  that  one  shrewd  old  man  was 
heard  to  say  on  leaving  the  school-house,  exr 
hibition  night,  "  A  great  cry,  but  little  wool." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LEARNING    TO    WRITE. 

The  winter  I  was  nine  years  old,  I  made 
another  advance  toward  the  top  of  the  ladder, 
in  the  circumstance  of  learning  to  write.  I 
desired  and  pleaded  to  commence  the  chiro- 
graphical  art  the  summer,  and  indeed  the 
winter  before,  fgr  others  of  my  own  age  were 
at  it  thus  early.  But  my  father  said  that  my 
fingers  were  hardly  stout  enough  to  manage  a 
quill  from  his  geese,  but  that  if  I  would  put  up 
with  the  quill  of  a  hen,  I  might  try.  This  pithy 
satire  put  an  end  to  my  teasing. 

Having  previously  had  the  promise  of  wri- 
ting this  winter,  I  had  made  all  the  necessary 
preparations,  days  before  school  was  to  begin. 
I  had  bought  me  a  new  birch  ruler,  and  had 
given  a  third  of  my  wealth,  four  cents,  for  it. 


As  IT  Was.  79 

To  this  I  had  appended,  by  a  well-twisted 
fluxen  string,  a  plummet  of  my  own  running, 
whittling  and  scraping.  I  had  hunted  up  an  old 
pewter  inkstand,  which  had  come  down  from 
the  ancestral  eminence  of  my  great  grand, 
father,  for  aught  I  know ;  and  it  bore  many 
marks  of  a  speedier  and  less  honorable  de- 
scent, to  wit,  from  table  or  desk  to  the  floor. 
I  had  succeeded  in  becoming  the  owner  of  a 
penknife,  not  that  it  was  likely  to  be  applied 
to  its  appropriate  use  that  winter  at  least,  for 
such  beginners  generally  used  the  instrument 
to  mar  the  pens  they  wrote  in,  rather  than  to 
make  or  mend  those  they  wrote  with.  I  had 
selected  one  of  the  fairest  quills  out  of  an 
enormous  bunch.  Half  a  quire  of  foolscap  had 
been  folded  into  the  shapeof  a  writing  book  by 
the  maternal  hand,  and  covered  with  brown  pa- 
per, nearly  as  thick  as  a  sheepskin. 

Behold  me  now,  on  the  first  Monday  in  De- 
cember, starting  for  school,  with  my  new  and 
clean  writing-book  buttoned  under  my  jacket, 
my  inkstancf  in  my  pocket,  a  bundle  of  neces- 
sary  books  in  one  hand,  and  my  ruler  and 
swinging  plummet  in  the  other,  which  I  flour- 
ished in  the  air  and  around  my  head,  till  the 
sharpened  lead  made  its  first  mark  on  my  own 
8* 


80  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

face.  My  long  white-feathered  goose- quill  v^^aa 
twisted  into  my  hat-band,  like  a  plumy  badge 
of  the  distinction  to  which  I  had  arrived,  and 
the  important  enterprise  before  me. 

On  arriving  at  the  school-house  I  took  a 
seat  higher  up  and  more  honorable  than  the 
one  I  occupied  the  winter  before.  At  the 
proper  time  my  wriling-book,  wliich,  with  my 
quill,  I  had  handed  to  the  master  on  entering, 
was  returned  to  me,  with  a  copy  set,  and  paper 
ruled  and  pen  made.  My  copy  was  a  sing'e 
straight  mark,  at  the  first  corner  of  my  mauu- 
script.  A  straight  mark  !  who  could  not  make 
so  simple  a  thingas  that  ?  thought  I.  I  waited, 
however,  to  see  how  the  boy  next  to  me,  a 
beginner  also,  should  succeed,  as  he  had  got 
ready  a  moment  before  me.  Never  shall  1  for- 
get  the  first  chirographical  exploit  of^is  youth. 
That  inky  image  will  never  be  eradicated  from 
my  memory,  so  long  as  a  single  trace  of  early 
experience  is  left  on  its  tablet.  The  fact  is,  it 
was  an  era  in  my  life — something  great  was  to 
be  done,  and  my  attention  was  intensely  awake 
to  whatever  had  a  bearing  on  this  new  and  im- 
portant  trial  of  my  powers.  I  looked  to  see  a 
mark  as  straight  as  a  ruler,  having  its  four  cor- 
ners  as  distinctly  defined  as  the  angles  of  a 
parallelogram. 


AS   IT   WAS.  81 

But,  O  me,  what  a  spectacle !  What  a 
shocking  contrast  to  my  anticipation  !  That, 
mark  had  as  many  crooks  as  a  ribbon  in  the 
wind,  and  nearer  eight  angles  than  four ;  and 
its  two  sides  were  nearly  as  rough  and  as 
notched  as  a  fine  handsaw  ;  and,  indeed,  the 
mark  somewhat  resembled  it  in  width,  for  the 
fellow  had  laid  in  a  store  of  ink  sufficient  to 
last  the  journey  of  the  whole  line.  "  Shame  on 
him,"  said  I,  internally,  "  I  can  beat  that,  I 
know."  1  began  by  setting  my  pen  firmly  on 
the  paper,  and  1  brought  a  mark  half  way  down 
with  rectilinear  precision.  But  by  this  time 
my  head  began  to  swim,  and  my  hand  to 
tremble.  1  was  as  it  were  in  vacancy,  far 
below  the  upper  ruling,  and  as  far  above  the 
lower.  My  self-possession  failed,  my  pen  di- 
verged  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  crooking  all 
the  remainder  of  its  way,  with  as  many  zig- 
zags as  could  well  be  in  so  short  a  distance. 
Mine  was  as  sad  a  failure  as  my  neighbor's.  I 
covered  it  over  with  my  fingers,  and  did  not 
jog  him  with  a  "  see  there,"  as  I  had  vainly 
anticipated. 

So  much  for  pains-taking,  now  for  chance. 
By  good  luck  the  next  eflbrt  was  quite  suc- 
cessful. I  now  dashed  on,  for  better  or  worse, 
till  in  one  half  hour  I  had  covered  the  whole 


82  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

page  with  the  standing,  though  seemingly  falK 
ing  monuments  of  the  chirographical  wisdom 
of  my  teacher,  and  skill  of  myself.  In  the  af- 
ternoon  a  similar  copy  was  set,  and  I  dashed 
on  again  as  if  1  had  taken  so  much  writing  by 
the  job,  and  my  only  object  was  to  save  time. 
Now  and  then  there  was  quite  a  reputable 
mark  ;  but  alas  !  for  him  whose  perception  of 
the  beautiful  was  particularly  delicate,  should 
he  get  a  glimpse  of  these  sloughs  of  ink. 

The  third  morning  my  cojjy  was  the  first 
element  of  the  m  and  n,  or  what  in  burlesque 
is  called  a  hook.  On  my  fourth  I  had  the  last 
half  of  the  same  letters,  or  the  trammel ;  and 
indeed  they  were  the  similitudes  of  hooks  and 
trammels,  forged  in  a  country  plenteous  iii 
iron,  and  by  the  youngest  apprentice  at  the 
hammer  and  anvil. 

In  this  way  I  went  through  all  the  small  let- 
tens,  as  they  are  called.  First,  the  elements  or 
constituent  parts,  then  the  whole  character  in 
which  these  parts  were  combined. 

Then  I  must  learn  to  make  the  capitals 
before  entering  on  joining  hand.  Four  pages 
were  devoted  to  these.  Capital  letters  !  They 
were  capital  offences  against  all  that  i§  grace- 
ful, indeed  decent,  yea  tolerable,  in  that  art 


AS    IT   WAS.  83 

which  is  so  capable  of  beautiful  forms  and  pro- 
portions. 

I  came  next  to  joining  hand,  about  three 
weeks  after  my  commencement ;  and  joining 
hand  indeed  it  was  !  It  seemed  as  if  my  hooks 
and  trammels  were  overheated  in  the  forge,  and 
were  melted  into  each  other,  the  shapeless 
masses  so  clung  together  at  points  where  they 
ought  to  have  been  separate,  so  very  far  were 
they  from  all  resemblance  to  conjoined,  yet 
distinct  and  well-defined  characters. 

Thus  I  went  on,  a  perfect  little  prodigal  in 
the  expenditure  of  paper,  ink,  pens  and  time. 
The  first  winter  i  splashed  two,  and  the  next, 
three  writing  books  with  inky  puddle,  in  learn- 
ing  coarse  hand ;  and  after  all  I  had  gained  not 
much  in  penmanship,  except  a  workmanlike 
assurance  and  celerity  of  execution,  such  as  is 
natural  to  an  old  hand  at  the  business. 

The  third  winter  I  commenced  small  hand, 
or  rather  fine,  as  it  is  more  technically  de- 
nominated ;  or  rather  a  copy  of  half-way  di- 
mensions, that  the  change  to  fine  running  hand 
might  not  be  too  sudden.  From  this  dwarfish 
coarse  or  giant  fine  hand,  just  as  you  please  to 
call  it,  I  slid  down  to  the  genuine  epistolary 
and  mercantile,  with  a  capital  at  the  head  of 


84  THE    DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

the  line,  as  much  out  of  proportion  as  a  corpu* 
lent  eld  captain  marching  in  single  file  before 
a  parade  of  little  boys. 

Some  of  our  teachers  were  accustomed  to 
spend  a  few  minutes,  forenoon  and  afternoon, 
in  going  round  among  the  writers  to  see  that 
they  held  the  pen  properly,  and  took  a  de- 
cent degree  of  pains.  But  the  majority  of 
them,  according  to  present  recollections,  never 
stirred  from  the  desk  to  superintend  this 
branch.  There  was  something  like  an  excuse, 
however,  for  not  visiting  their  pupils  while  at 
the  pen.  Sitting  as  they  did  in  those  long, 
narrow,  rickety  seats,  one  could  hardly  be  got 
at  without  joggling  two  or  three  others,  dis- 
placing a  writing  book,  knocking  over  an  ink- 
stand, and  making  a  deal  of  rustle,  rattle  and 
racket. 

Some  of  the  teachers  set  the  copies  at  home 
in  the  evening,  but  most  set  them  in  school. 
Six  hours  per  day  were  all  that  custom  re- 
quired  of  a  teacher — of  course  half  an  hour  at 
home  spent  in  the  matters  of  the  school, 
would  have  been  time  and  labor  not  paid  for, 
and  a  gratuity  not  particularly  expected.  On 
entering  in  the  morning,  and  looking  for  the 
master  as  the  object  at  which  to  make  the 
customary  "  manners,"  ws  could  perceive  just 


AS  IT  WAS.  83 

the  crown  of  his  head  beyond  a  huge  stack 
of  manuscripts,  which,  together  with  his  copy, 
setting  attention,  prevented  the  bowed  and 
courtesied  respects  from  his  notice.  A  few  of 
the  most  advanced  in  penmanship  had  copper- 
plate slips,  as  they  wero  called,  tucked  into 
their  manuscripts,  for  the  trial  of  their  more 
skilful  hands ;  or,  if  an  ordinary  learner  had  for 
once  done  extraordinary  well,  he  was  per- 
mitted a  slip  as  a  mark  of  merit,  and  a  circum- 
stance of  encouragement.  Sometimes,  when 
the  master  was  pressed  for  time,  all  the  joining, 
banders  were  thus  furnished.  It  was  a  plea- 
sure to  have  copies  of  this  sort — their  polished 
shades,  graceful  curves,  and  delicate  hair  lines 
were  so  like  a  picture  for  the  eye  to  dwell 
upon.  But  when  we  set  about  the  work  of 
imitation,  discouragement  took  the  place  of 
pleasure.  "  After  all,  give  us  the  master's 
hand,"  we  thought ;  "  we  can  come  up  to  that 
now  and  then."  We  despaired  of  ever  becom- 
ing decent  penmen  with  this  copper-plate  per- 
fection mocking  our  clumsy  fingers. 

There  was  one  item  in  penmanship  which 
our  teachers  generally  omitted  altogether.  It 
was  the  art  of  making  and  mending  pens.  I 
suffer,  and  others  on  my  account  suffer  from 
this  neglect  even  at  this  day.     The  untrace- 


83  THE    DISTUICT    SCHOOL 

able  "  partridge  tracks,"  as  some  one  called 
them,  with  which  1  perplex  my  correspondents, 
and  am  now  about  to  provoke  the  printer,  are 
chargeable  to  my  ignorance  in  pen-making.  It 
is  a  fact,  however  some  acquaintances  may 
doubt  it,  that  I  generally  write  very  legibly,  if 
not  gracefully,  whenever  I  borrow,  beg,  or 
steal  a  pen. 

Let  not  the  faithful  WrifFord,  should  his  eye 
chance  to  fall  on  this  lament,  think  that  I 
have  forgotten  his  twelve  lessons,  of  one  hour 
each,  on  twelve  successive,  cold  November 
days,  when  I  was  just  on  the  eve  of  com- 
mencing pedagogue  for  the  first  time — (for  I 
too  have  kept  a  district  school  in  a  manner 
somewhat  like  as  it  was) — I  have  not  forgot- 
ten them.  He  did  well  for  me.  But  alas,  his 
tall  form  bent  over  my  shoulder,  his  long 
flexible  finger  adjusted  my  pen,  and  his  vigilant 
eye  glanced  his  admonitions  in  vain.  That 
thirteenth  lesson  which  he  added  gratis,  to 
teach  us  penmaking,  I  was  so  unfortunate  as 
to  lose.  Lam'^ntable  to  me  and  to  many  others, 
that  I  was  kept  away. 

I  blush  while  I  acknowledge  it,  but  I  have 
taught  school,  have  taught  penmanship,  have 
made-and  mended  a  hundred  pens  a  day,  and 
all  the  time  I  knew  not  much  more  of  the  art 


AS   IT   WAS.  87 

of  turning  quill  into  pen,  than  did  the  goose 
from  whose  wing  it  was  plucked.  But  my 
manufactures  were  received  by  my  pupils  as 
good.  Good  of  course  they  must  be,  for  the 
master  made  them,  and  who  should  dare  to 
question  his  competency  !  If  the  instrument 
did  not  operate  well,  the  fault  must  certainly 
be  in  the  fingers  that  wielded,  not  those  that 
wrought  it. 

O  ye  pedagogues  whom  I  have  here  con- 
demned  to  "  everlasting  fame,"  taking  it  for 
granted  that  this  record  will  be  famous  for- 
ever, be  not  too  angry  with  my  humble  author- 
ship,  for  I  too,  let  it  be  repeated,  have  kept  a 
district  school  as  it  was,  as  well  as  ieen  to 
one.  But,  brother  Pedagogues  of  the  past,  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  purpose  to  do,  perhaps 
some  of  you  will  purpose  to  do  so  likewise. 
Should  this  exposure  of  our  deficiencies 
meet  with  a  tolerable  sale,  I  purpose  to  era- 
ploy  a  teacher  in  the  art  of  cutting,  splitting, 
and  shaving  pen  timber  into  the  best  possible 
fitness  for  chirographic  use.  It  is  my  heart's 
hope,  and  it  shall  be  my  hand's  care,  that  he 
may  not  teach  in  vain.  Tlien,  if  I  cannot 
make  amends  to  my  cheated  pupils,  I  trust 
that  the  wearied  eyes  and  worn  out  patience 
of  former  tracers  of  *'  partridge  tracks"  shall 
9 


88  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

recover,  to  be  thus  wearied  and  worn  out  no 
more. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SEVENTH   WINTER,  BUT    NOT    MUCH    ABOUT  IT- 
EIGHTH    WINTER ME.     JOHNSON — GOOD     OR- 

DERS,  AND  BUT    LITTLE    PUNISHING A   STOKT 

ABOUT  PUNISHING NINTH  WINTER. 

Of  niy  .sevsnth  winter  I  have  but  iittle  to 
say,  for  but  liille  was  done  worthy  of  record 
here.  Wc  had  an  indolent  master  and  an  idle 
school.  Sonne  tried  to  kindle  up  the  speaking 
spirit  again,  but  the  teacher  had  no  taste  that 
way.  But  there  was  dialoguing  enough  never- 
theless— in  that  form  called  whispering.  Our 
school  was  a  theatre  in  earnest,  for  *'  plays" 
were  going  on  all  the  time.  It  was  "acting"  to 
the  life,  acting  any-how  rather  than  like  schol- 
ars at  their  books.  But  let  that  winter  and  its 
works,  or  rather  want  of  works,  pass.  Of 
the  eighth  I  can  say  something  worth  notice 
I  think. 

In  consequence  of  the  lax  discipline  of  the 
two  last  winters  the  school  had  fallen  into 
very  idle  and  turbulent  habits.     "A  master 


is   IT   WAS.  69 

that  will  keep  order,  a  master  that  will  keep 
order,"  was  the  cry  throughout  the  district* 
Accordingly  such  a  one  was  sought,  and  fortu- 
nately found.  A  certain  Mr*  Johnson,  who 
had  taught  in  a  neighboring  town,  was  famous 
for  his  strictness,  and  that  without  much  pun- 
ishing. He  was  obtained  at  a  little  higher 
price  than  usual,  and  was  thought  to  be  well 
worth  the  price.  I  will  describe  his  person, 
and  relate  an  incident  as  characteristic  of  the 
man. 

Mr.  Johnson  was  full  six  feet  high,  with  the 
diameter  of  his  chest  and  limbs  in  equal  pro- 
portion, llis  face  was  long,  and  as  dusky  as  a 
Spaniard's,  and  the  dark  was  still  darkened 
by  the  roots  of  an  enormous  beard.  His  eyes 
were  bj^ick,  and  looked  floggings  and  blood 
from  out  their  cavernous  sockets,  which  were 
overhung  by  eyebrows  not  unlike  brush-heaps. 
His  hair  was  black  and  curly,  and  extended 
down,  and  expanded  on  each  side  of  his  face  in 
a  pair  of  whiskers  a  freebooter  might  have 
envied. 

He  possessed  the  longest,  widest,  and  thick- 
est  ruler  I  ever  saw.  This  was  seldom  bran- 
dished in  his  hand,  but  generally  lay  in  sight 
upon  the  desk.  Although  he  was  so  famous 
for  his  orders  in  school,  he  scarcely  ever  had 


90  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

to  use  his  punitive  instrument.  His  look, 
bearing  and  voice  were  enough  for  the  subjec- 
tion of  the  most  riotous  school.  Never  was 
our  school  1^0  still  and  so  studious  as  this  win- 
ter.  A  circumstance  occurred  the  very  first 
day,  which  drove  every  thing  like  mischief  in 
consternation  from  every  scholar's  heart.  Abi- 
jah  Wilkins  had  for  years  been  called  the 
worst  boy  in  school.  Masters  could  do  nothing 
with  him.  He  was  surly,  saucy,  profane  and 
truthless.  Mr.  Patch  took  him  from  an  alms- 
house when  he  was  eight  years  old,  which  was 
eight  years  before  the  point  of  lime  now  in  view. 
In  his  family  were  mended  neither  his  disposi- 
tion, his  manners,  nor  even  his  clothes.  He 
looked  like  a  morose,  unpitied  pauper  still. 
He  had  shaken  his  knurly  and  filthy  fist  in 
the  very  face  and  eyes  of  the  last  winter's 
teacher.  Mr.  Johnson  was  told  of  this  son  of 
perdition  before  he  began,  and  was  prepared  to 
take  some  efficient  step  at  his  first  offence. 

Well,  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day,  Abijah 
thrust  a  pin  into  a  boy  beside  him,  which 
made  him  suddenly  cry  out  with  the  sharp 
pain.  The  sufferer  was  questioned,  Abijah 
was  accused  and  found  guilty.  The  mas- 
ter requested  James  Clark  to  go  to  his  room 


A3  IT    WAS.  01 

and  bring  a  rattan  he  would  find  there,  as  if 
the  formidable  ferule  was  unequal  to  the  pres- 
ent exigency.  James  came  with  a  rattan  very 
long  and  very  elastic,  as  if  it  had  been  select- 
ed from  a  thousand,  not  to  walk  with,  but  to 
•whip.  Then  he  ordered  all  the  blinds  next  to 
the  road  to  be  closed.  He  then  said,  "  Abijah, 
come  this  way."  He  came.  "  The  school 
may  shut  their  books  and  suspend  their  studies 
a  few  minutes.  Abijah,  take  off  your  frock, 
fold  it  up,  lay  it  on  the  seat  beliind  you."  Abi- 
jah obeyed  these  several  commands  with  sul- 
len tardiness.  Here,  a  boy  up  towards  the 
back  seat  burst  out  with  a  sort  of  shuddering 
laugh,  produced  by  a  nervous  excitement  he 
could  not  control.  "Silence,"  said  the  mas- 
ter, with  a  thunder,  and  a  stamp  on  the  floor 
that  made  the  house  quuke.  All  was  as  stiil  as 
midnight — not  a  foot  moved,  not  a  seat  crack- 
ed, not  a  book  rustled.  The  scliool  seemed 
to  be  appalled.  The  expression  of  every  coun- 
tenance was  changed ;  sonic  were  unnatu- 
rally pale,  some  flushed,  and  eighty  distended 
and  moistening  eyes  were  fastened  on  the 
scene.  The  awful  expectation  was  too  much 
for  one  poor  girl.  "  May  I  go  home  ?"  she 
whined  with  an  imploring  and  terrified  look. 
A  single  cast  from  the  countenance  of  authori- 
9* 


92  THE   DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

ty  crushed  the  trembler  down  into  her  seat 
again.  A  tremulous  sigh  escaped  from  one 
of  the  larger  girls,  then  all  was  breathlessly 
still  again.  "  Take  off  your  jacket  also,  Abi- 
jah.  Fold  it,  and  lay  it  on  your  frock."  Mr. 
Johnson  then  took  his  chair  and  set  it  away 
at  the  farthest  distance  the  floor  would  permit, 
as  if  all  the  space  that  could  be  had  would  be 
necessary  for  the  operations  about  to  take 
place.  He  then  took  the  rattan,  and  seemed 
to  examine  it  closely,  drew  it  through  his 
hand,  bent  it  almost  double,  laid  it  down  again. 
He  then  took  off  his  own  coat,  folded  it  up, 
and  laid  it  on  the  desk.  Abijah's  breast  then 
heaved  like  a  bellows,  his  limbs  began  to  trem- 
ble, and  his  face  was  like  a  sheet.  The  mas- 
ter now  took  the  rattan  in  his  right  hand,  and 
the  criminal  by  the  collar  with  his  left,  his 
large  knuckles  pressing  hard  against  the  shoul- 
der of  the  boy.  He  raised  the  stick  high 
over  the  shrinking  back.  Then,  O  what  a 
screech!  Had  the  rod  fallen?  No,  it  still 
remained  suspended  in  the  air.  "  O — I  wont 
do  so  agin — I'll  never  do  so  agin — O — ' 
O — don't — I  will  be  good — ^sartinly  will." 
The  threatening  instrument  of  pain  was 
gently  taken  from  its  elevation.  The  master 
spoke  :   "  You  promise,  do  you  ?"    "  Yis,  sir, 


AS   IT   WAS.  93 

— O,  yis,  sir."  The  tight  grasp  was  with- 
drawn from  the  collar.  "  Put  on  your  frock 
and  jacket,  and  go  to  your  seat.  The  rest  of 
you  may  open  your  books  again."  The 
school  breathed  again.  Paper  rustled,  feet 
were  carefully  moved,  the  seats  slightly  crack- 
ed, and  all  things  went  stilly  on  as  before. 
Abijah  kept  his  promise.  He  became  an  al- 
tered boy ;  obedient,  peaceable,  studious. 
This  long  and  slow  process  of  preparing  for 
the  punishment  was  artfully  designed  by  the 
master,  gradually  to  work  up  the  boy's  terrors 
and  agonizing  expectations  to  the  highest 
pitch,  until  he  should  yield  like  a  babe  to  the 
intensity  of  his  emotions.  His  stubborn  na- 
ture, which  had  been  like  an  oak  on  the  hills 
which  no  storm  could  prostrate,  was  whittled 
away  and  demolished,  as  it  were,  sliver  by 
sliver. 

Not  Abijah  Wilkins  only,  but  the  whole 
school  were  subdued  to  the  most  humble  and 
habitual  obedience  by  the  scene  I  have  de- 
scribed. The  terror  of  it  seemed  to  abide  in 
their  hearts.  The  school  improved  much  this 
winter,  that  is,  according  to  the  ideas  of  im- 
provement then  prevailing.  Lessons  were  well 
gotten,  and  well  said,  although  the  why  and  the 
wherefore  of  them  were  not  asked  or  given. 


94  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

Mr.  Johnson  was  employed  the  next  winter 
also,  and  it  was  the  prevailing  wibh  that  he 
should  be  engaged  for  ihe  third  time,  but  he 
could  not  be  obtained.  His  reputation  as  a 
teacher  had  secured  .or  him  a  school  at  twenty 
dollars  per  month  for  the  year  round,  in  a  dis- 
tant  village,  so  we  were  never  more  to  sit  "  as 
still  as  mice,"  in  his  most  magisterial  presence. 
For  years  the  saying  in  the  district,  in  respect 
to  him  was,  "  He  was  the  best  master  1  v.ves 
went  to ;  be  kept  such  good  order,  and  pua- 
ished  so  little." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

GOING  OUT — MAKING  BOWS — BOYS  COMING  IN 

GIKLS    GOING   OUT    AND   COMIJiG    IN. 

The  young  are  proverbially  ignorant  of  the 
value  of  time.  There  is  one  portion  of  it, 
however,  which  they  well  know  hov/  to  appre- 
ciate. They  feel  it  to  be  a  wealih  both  to  the 
body  and  soul.  Its  few  moments  are  truly 
golden  ones,  forming  a  glittering  spot  amid 
the  drossy  dullness  of  iri-school  duration.  I 
refer  to  the  forenoon  and  afternoon  recess  for 
"  going  out."    Consider  that  we  came  from  aM 


AS   IT   WAS.  95 

the  freedom  of  the  farm,  where  we  had  the 
sweep  of  acres — hiUs,  valleys,  woods,  and  wa- 
ters, and  were  crowded,  I  may  say  packed  in- 
to the  district  box.  Each  one  had  scarcely 
more  space  than  to  allow  him  to  shift  his  head 
from  an  inclination  to  one  shoulder  to  an  incli- 
nation to  the  other,  or  from  leaning  on  the  right 
elbow,  to  leaning  on  the  left.  There  we  were, 
the  blood  of  health  bouncing  through  our  veins, 
feeding  our  strength,  swelling  our  dimensions ; 
and  there  we  must  slay,  three  hours  on  a  stretch, 
with  the  exception  of  the  afore-mentioned  re- 
cess. No  wonder  that  we  should  prize  this 
brief  period  high,  and  rush  tumultuously  out 
doors  to  enjoy  it. 

There  is  one  circumstance  in  going  out 
which  so  much  amuses  my  recollection,  that  1 
will  venture  to  describe  it  to  my  readers.  It 
is  the  making  of  our  bows,  or  manners,  as  it 
is  called.  If  one  wishes  to  see  variety  in  the 
doing  of  a  single  act,  let  him  look  at  school 
boys,  leaving  their  bows  at  the  door.  Tell  mo 
not  of  the  diversities  and  characteristics  of  the 
gentilities  and  the  awkwardnesses  in  the  civili- 
ty of  shaking  hands.  The  bow  is  as  diver* 
sified  and  characteristic,  as  awkward  or  gen- 
teel, as  any  movement  many-motioned  man 
it  called  on  to  make.     Especially  in  a  country 


8d  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOi. 

school,  where  fashion  and  politeress  have  not 
altered  the  tendencies  of  nature  by  forming 
the  manners  of  all  after  one  model  of  propri- 
ety.  Besides,  the  bow  was  before  the  shake, 
both  in  the  history  of  the  world,  and  in  that  of 
every  individual  man.  No  doubt  the  world's 
first  gentleman,  nature-taught,  declined  his 
head  in  some  sort,  in  saluting  for  the  first,  time 
the  world's  first  lady,  in  primitive  Eden.  And 
no  doubt  every  little  boy  has  been  instructed  to 
make  a  "nice  bow,"  from  chubby  Cain,  Abel 
and  Seth,down  to  the  mannered  younglings  of 
the  present  day. 

Well,  then,  it  is  near  half-past  ten,  A.M., 
but  seemingly  eleven  to  the  impatient  young- 
sters, anticipation  rather  than  reflection,  be- 
ing the  faculty  .^most  in  action  just  now.  At 
last  the  master  fakes  out  his  watch  and  gives 
a  hasty  glance  at  the  index  of  the  hour.  Or 
if  this  premonitory  symptom  does  not  appear, 
watching  eyes  can  discern  the  signs  of  tho 
time  in  the  face  relaxing  itself  fi'om  severe 
duly,  and  ill  the  moving  lips  just  assumiug  that 
precise  form  necessary  to  pronounce  the  sen- 
tence of  liberation.  Then,  make  ready,  taka 
aim,  is  at  once  the  order  of  every  idler. 
"  The  boys  may  go  out."  The  little  white 
heads    on    the    little    seat,    as    it   is    ca]fed» 


AS    IT    WAS.  97 

are  the  foremost,  having  nothing  in  front  to  im- 
pede  a  straight  forward  sally.  One  little 
nimble  foot  is  at  the  door  in  an  instant,  and 
as  he  lifis  the  latch,  he  tosses  off  a  bow  over 
his  left  shoulder,  and  it  is  out  in  a  twinkling. 
The  ne;:t  perhaps  squares  himself  towards 
the  master  with  more  precision,  not  havin" 
his  attention  divided  between  opening  the 
door  and  leaving  his  manners.  Next  comes 
the  very  least  of  the  little,  just  in  front  of  the 
big-boy  rush  behind  him,  tap-tapping  and  tot- 
tering along  the  floor,  with  his  finger  in  his 
nose,  but  in  wheeling  from  his  bow,  he  blun- 
ders head  first  through  the  door,  in  his  anx- 
iety  (o  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  impending 
throng  of  fists  and  knees  behind,  in  avoiding 
which  he  is  prostrated  under  the  tramp  of 
cowhide. 

Now  come  the  bigs  from  behind  the  wri- 
ting benches.  Some  of  them  iiiake  a  bow 
with  a  jerk  of  the  head  and  snap  of  the  neck 
possible  only  to  giddy-brained,  oily-jointed 
boyhood.  Some,  whose  mothers  are  of  the 
precise  cast,  or  who  have  had  their  manners 
stiffened  at  a  dancing-school,  will  wait  till  the 
throng  is  a  little  thinned,  and  then  they  will 
strut  out  with  their  arms  as  straight  at  their 
sides  as  if  there  were  no  such  things  as  elbows, 


98  THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

and  will  let  their  upper  person  bend  upon  the 
middle  hinge,  as  if  this  were  the  only  joint  in 
their  frames.  Some  look  straight  at  their  toes, 
as  the  face  descends  toward  the  floor.  Others 
strain  a  glance  up  at  the  master,  displaying  an 
uncommon  proportion  of  that  beauty  of  the 
eye,  the  white.  Lastly  come  the  tenants  of 
the  extreme  back  seat,  the  Anaks  of  the  school. 
One  long-limbed,  lank-sided,  back-bending 
fellow  of  twenty  is  at  the  door  at  four  strides ; 
he  has  the  proper  curve  already  prepared  by 
his  ordinary  gait,  and  he  has  nothing  to  do  but 
swing  round  toward  the  master,  and  his  man- 
ners are  made.  Another,  whose  body  is  de- 
veloped in  the  full  proportions  of  manhood,  turns 
himself  half  way  and  just  gives  the  slightest  in- 
clination of  the  person.  He  thinks  himself  too 
much  of  a  man  to  make  such  a  ridiculous  pop- 
ping of  the  pate  as  the  younglings  who  have 
preceded  him.  Another  with  a  tread  that 
makes  the  floor  tremble,  goes  straight  out 
through  the  open  door,  without  turning  to  the 
right  or  left,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  am  quite 
too  old  for  that  business." 

There  are  two  in  the  short  seat  at  the  end 
of  the  spelling  floor  who  have  almost  attained 
to  the  glorious,  or  rather  vain-glorious  age  of 
twenty-one.     They   are  perhaps  even  more 


AS   IT   WAS.  99 

aged  than  the  venerable  Rabbi  of  the  school 
himself.     So   they   respect  their   years,   and 
put  away  childish  things,  inasmuch  as  tkey 
do   not  go  out  as  their  juniors   do.     One  of 
them  sticks  to  his  slate.     It  is  his  last  winter, 
and   as  he  did    not  catch  flying  time  by  the 
forelock,  he  must  cling  to  his  heel.     The  oth- 
er unpuckers  his  arithmetical  Lrow,  puts  his 
pencil  between  his  teeth,  leans  his   head  oa 
his  right  palm,  with  his  left  fingers  adjusts  his 
foretop,   and   then  composes  himself  into  an 
amiable  gaze  upon  the  fair  remainder  of  the 
school.     Perhaps  his  eyes  leap  at  once  to  that 
damsel  of  eighteen  in  the  furthermost  seat,  who 
is  the  secret  mistress  of  his  heart. 

How  still  it  is  in  the  absence  of  half  the 
limbs  and  lips  of  the  domain  !  That  little  girl 
who  has  been  buzzing  round  her  lesson  like 
a  bee  round  a  honey-suckle,  off  and  on  by 
turns,  is  now  sipping  its  sweets,  if  any  sweets 
there  be,  as  closely  and  stilly  as  that  same  bee 
plunged  in  the  bell  of  the  flower.  The  secret 
of  the  unwonted  silence  is,  the  master  knows 
on  which  side  of  the  aisle  to  look  for  noise  and 
mischief  now. 

It  is  time  for  the  boys  to   come  in.     The 
master  raps  on  the  window  as  a  signal.     At 
first  they  scatter  in  one  by  one,  keeping  the 
10 


100  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

door  perpetually  slamming.  But  soon,  rn 
rush  the  main  body,  pell-mell,  rubbing  their 
ears,  kicking  their  heels,  puffing,  panting, 
wheezing.  Impelled  by  the  temporary  chill 
they  crowd  round  the  fire,  regaining  the  need- 
ed warmth  as  much  by  the  exercise  of  elbows 
as  by  the  heat  of  fuel.  "  Take  your  seats, 
you  that  have  got  warm,"  says  the  master. 
No  one  starts.  "  Take  yoar  seats,  all  of  you." 
Tramp,  tramp,  how  the  floor  trembles  again, 
and  the  seats  clatter.  There  goes  an  ink- 
stand. Ben  pinches  Tom  to  let  him  know 
that  he  must  go  in  first.  Tom  stands  back, 
but  gives  Ben  a  kick  on  the  shins  as  he  passes, 
to  pay  for  that  pinch. 

«'  The  girls  may  go  out."  The  noise  and 
confusion  are  now  of  the  feminine  gender. 
Trip,  trip,  rustle,  rustle.  Shall  1  describe 
the  diversities  of  the  courtesy  ?  I  could  pen 
a  trait  or  two,  but  prefer  to  leave  the  subject 
to  the  more  discriminating  quill  of  the  cour- 
lesying  sex.  The  shrill  tones  and  gossipping 
chatter  of  girlhood  now  ring  from  without. 
But  they  do  not  stay  long.  Trip,  trip,  rustle 
rustle,  back  again.  Half  of  them  are  suck- 
ing a  lump  of  snow  for  drink.  One  has  broken 
an  icicle  from  the  well.spout,  and  is  nibbling 
it  as  she  would  a  stick  of  candy.     See  Sarah 


AS    IT     WAS.  101 

jump.  The  ice-eater's  cold,  dripping  hand 
has  mischievously  sprinkled  her  neck.  Down 
goes  the  melting  little  cone,  and  is  scattered 
in  shivers.  "  Take  your  seats,"  says  authori- 
ty with  soft  command.  He  is  immediately 
obeyed  ;  and  the  dull  routine  rolls  on  toward 
noon. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

NOON NOISE  AND  DINNER SPORTS    AT  SCHOOL 

-r-  COASTING SNOW-BALLING A     CERTAIN 

MEMORABLE   SNOW-BALL    BATTLE. 

NooN  has  come.  It  is  even  half  past 
twelve,  for  the  teacher  got  puzzled  with  a 
hard  sum  and  did  not  attend  to  the  second 
reading  of  the  first  class  so  soon  as  usual  by 
half  an  hour.  It  has  been  hitch,  hitch — 
joggle,  joggle — creak,  creak,  all  over  the 
school- room  for  a  considerable  time.  *'  You 
are  dismissed,"  comes  at  last.  The  going  out 
of  half  the  school  only  wns  a  noisy  business, 
but  now  there  is  a  tenfold  thunder,  augment- 
ed by  the  windy  rush  of  many  peticoats. 
AH  the  voices  of  all  the  tongues  now  split  or 
rather    shatter  the  air,   if  I  may  so   speak. 


102  THE  DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

There  are  more  various  tones  than  couM  he 
indicated  by  all  the  epithets  ever  appliod  ta 
sound. 

The  first  manual  operation  is  the  extract- 
ing of  certain  parcels  from  pockets,  bags, 
baskets,  hat-crowns,  and  perhaps  the  capa- 
cious cavity  formed  by  the  tie  of  a  short  open 
frock.  Then  what  a  savory  development — 
bread,  cheese,  cakes,  pies,  sausages,  and  ap- 
ples without  number.  It  is  voice  versus  ap- 
petite now  for  the  occupancy  of  the  mouth. 
Or  to  speak  less  lawyer-like  and  more  pop- 
ularly, they  have  a  jaw  together. 

The  case  is  soon  decided,  that  is,  dinner  is 
despatched.  Then  commences  what,  in  view 
of  most  of  us,  is  the  chief  business  of  the  day. 
Before  describing  this,  however,  I  would  pre- 
mise a  little.  The  principal  allurement  and 
prime  happiness  of  going  to  scliool  as  it  used 
to  be  conducted,  was  the  oppoitunity  it  af. 
forded  for  social  amusement.  Our  rural 
abodes  were  scat'Lcred  generally  a  half  or  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  apart,  and  the  young  could 
not  see  each  other  every  day  as  conveniently 
as  they  can  in  a  city  or  a  village.  The  school, 
ing  season  was  therefore  looked  forward  to  as 
one  long  series  of  holidays,  or  as  Mark  Mar- 
tin once  said,  as  so  many  thanksgiving  days, 
except  the  music,  the  sermon  and  the  dinner. 


JLS  IT  WAS.  103 

Mark  Martin,  Jet  me  mention  by  the  way, 
was  the  wit  of  the  school.  Some  of  his  say- 
ings that  made  us  lauj^h  at  the  time,  I  shall 
hereafter  put  down.  They  may  not  affect  the 
reader,  however,  as  they  did  us,  for  the  lack 
of  his  peculiar  manner  which  set  them  off. 
"  What  a  droll  fellow  Mark  Martinis,"  used 
to  be  the  frequent  expression. 

Should  I  describe  all  the  pastimes  of  the 
winter  school,  it  would  require  more  space 
than  befits  my  plan.  I  shall  therefore  touch 
only  on  one  or  two  of  the  different  kinds  of 
out-door  frolic — such  only  as  are  peculiar  to 
winter  and  give  a  particular  zest  to  the  school, 
ing  season. 

Of  all  the  sportive  exercises  of  the  winter 
school,  the  most  exhilarating,  indeed  intensely 
delightful,  was  sliding  down  hill,  or  coasting 
as  it  is  called.  Not  having  the  privilege  ot 
this,  excepting  in  the  snowy  season,  and  then 
with  frequent  interrupiiotis,  it  was  far  more 
highly  prized.  The  location  of  our  school 
was  uncommonly  favorable  for  this  diversion. 
Situated  as  we  were  on  a  hill,  we  could  go 
down  like  arrows  for  the  eighth  of  a  mile  on 
one  side,  and  half  that  distance  on  the  other. 
Almost  every  boy  had  his  sled.  Some  of  us 
got  our  names  branded  on  the  vehicle,  nnd 
10* 


104  THE    PISTRICT    SCHOOL 

prided  ourselves  in  the  workmanship  or  the 
swiftness  of  it,  as  mariners  do  in  that  of  a  ship. 
We  used  to  personify  the  dear  little  speeder 
with  a  she  and  a  her,  seaman-like  also.  Take 
it  when  a  few  days  of  severely  cold  and  clear 
weather  have  permitted  the  road  to  bo  worn 
icy  smooth,  and  the  careering  little  coaster  is 
the  most  enviable  pleasure-rider  that  was  ever 
eager  to  set  out  or  sorry  to  stop.  The  very 
tugging  up  hill  back  again  is  not  without  its 
pleasure.  The  change  of  posture  is  agreea- 
ble, and  also  the  stir  of  limb  and  stretch  of 
muscle  for  the  short  time  required  to  return 
to  the  starting  place.  Then  there  is  the  look- 
ing forward  to  the  glorious  down-hill  again. 
In  all  the  pleasures  of  human  experience  there 
is  nothing  like  coasting,  for  the  regular  alterna- 
tion of  glowing  anticipation  and  frame-lhrilliug 
enjoyment. 

Had  there  been  a  mill-pond  or  any  otlier 
sufficient  expanse  of  water  near  the  old  school 
house,  I  should  probably  now  pen  a  paragraph 
on  the  delights  of  skating  j  but  as  there  was 
not,  and  this  was  not  therefore  one  of  our 
school -sports,  such  a  description  would  not 
pioperly  belong  to  these  annals. 

But  there  is  another  pastime  which  comes 
only  with  the  winter,  and  is  enjoyed  mostly  at 


AS   IT   WAS.  105 

school,  to  which  I  will  devote  a  few  pages. 
It  is  the  chivalrous  pastime  of  snow-balh'ng. 
Take  for  instance  the  earliest  snow  of  winter, 
falling  gently  and  stilly  with  its  feathery  flakes, 
of  just  the  right  moisture  for  easy  manipula- 
tion. Or  when  the  drifts  soften  in  the  mid- 
winter  thaw,  or  begin  to  settle  beneath  the 
lengthened  and  sunny  days  of  March,  then 
is  the  season  for  the  power  and  glory  of  a 
snow- ball  fight.  The  whole  school  of  the 
martial  sex  are  out  of  a  noon  time,  from  the 
veterans  of  a  hundred  battles  down  almost  to 
the  freshest  reciuits  of  tha  little  front  seat. 
Half  against  half,  unless  a  certain  number 
agree  to  take  all  the  rest.  The  oldest  are  op- 
posed to  the  oldest  in  the  hostile  array,  so 
that  the  little  round,  and  perhaps  hard  missile, 
may  not  be  out  of  proportion  to  the  age,  size 
and  toughness  of  the  antagonist  likely  to  be 
hit.  The  little  boys  of  course  against  ihe  lit- 
tle, with  this  advantage,  that  their  discharges 
lose  most  of  their  force  before  reaching  the 
object  aimed  at.  When  one  is  hit  he  is  not 
merely  wounded,  he  is  a  dead  man  as  to  this 
battle.  Here,  no  quarter  is  asked  or  given. 
The  balls  whistle,  the  men  fall,  until  all  are 
defunct  but  one  or  two  individuals,  who  re- 


1"06  THE    DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

main  unkilled  because  there  is  no  enemy  left  to 
hurl  the  faial  ball. 

But  our  conflicts  were  not  always  make-be- 
lieves, and  conducted  according  to  the  formal 
rules  of  play  ;  these  sham-fights  sometimes 
waxed  into  the  very  reality  of  war. 

The  school  was  about  equally  divided  be- 
tween the  East  and  the  West  ends  of  the  dis- 
trict. There  had  from  time  immemorial  come 
down  a  rivalry  between  the  two  parties  in  re- 
spect to  physical  activity  and  strength.  At  the 
close  of  the  school  in  the  afternoon,  and  at  the 
parting  of  the  scholars  on  their  different  ways 
toward  home,  there  were  almost  always  a  few 
farewells  in  the  form  of  a  sudden  trip-up,  a  dab 
of  snow,  or  an  icy-ball  almost  as  tenderly  soft 
and  agreeable  of  contact  as  that  mellow  thing» 
a  stone.  These  valedictories  were  as  courte- 
ously reciprocated  from  the  other  side. 

These  slight  skirmishes  would  sometimes 
grow  into  a  general  battle,  when  the  arm  was 
not  careful  to  proportion  the  force  just  so  as  to 
touch  and  no  more,  as  in  a  noon-day  game. 

One  buttle  I  recollect,  which  is  worthy  of 
being  commemorated  in  a  book,  at  least  a 
book  about  boyhood,  like  this.  It  is  as  fresh 
before  my  mind's  eye  as  if  it  were  but  yester- 
day.    To  swell  somewhat  into  the  pompous, 


AS  re  WAS.  107 

glorious  Waterloo  could  not  be  remembered 
by  its  surviving  heroes  with  greater  tenacity 
or  distinctness. 

It  had  gently  but  steadily  snowed  all  on 
December  night,  and  almost  all  the  next  day. 
Owing  to  the  weather,  there  were  no  girls 
excepting  Captain  Ciark's  two,  and  no  very 
small  boys  at  school.  The  scholars  had  been 
unusually  playful  through  the  day,  and  had 
taken  liberties  which  would  not  have  been  tole- 
rated in  the  fgjl  school. 

When  we  were  dismissed  at  night,  the  snow 
had  done  falling,  and  the  ammunition  of  just 
the  right  moisture,  lay  in  exhaustless  abun- 
dance on  the  ground,  all  as  level  as  a  floor, 
for  there  had  been  no  wind  to  distribute  une- 
qually the  gifts  of  the  impartial  clouds.  The 
first  boy  that  sprang  from  the  threshold  caught 
up  a  quart  of  the  spotless  but  viscid  material, 
and  whitewashed  the  face  of  the  next  one  at 
the  door,  who  happened  to  belong  to  the  rival 
side.  This  was  a  signal  for  general  action. 
As  iiXHi  as  the  troops  poured  out  they  rush- 
ed to  the  conflict.  We  had  not  the  eoolness 
deliberately  to  arrange  ourselves  in  battle 
order,  line  against  line,  but  each  aimed  at  each 
as  he  could,  no  matter  whom,  how,  or  where, 
provided  that  he  belonged  to  the  "  other  end." 


108  THE    DISTRICTt  SCHOOL 

We  did  not  round  the  snow  into  shape,  but 
hurled  and  dashed  it  in  large  masses,  as  we 
happened  to  snatch  or  scoop  it  up.  As  the 
combatants  in  gunpowder  war  are  hidden  from 
each  other  by  clouds  of  Iheir  own  raising,  so 
alio  our  warriors  clouded  themselves  from 
sight.  And  there  wereothpr  obstacles  to  vision 
besides  the  discharges  in  the  air ;  for  one  or 
both  the  eyes  of  us  all  were  glued  up  and 
sealed  in  darkness  by  the  damp,  sticky  matter. 
The  nasal  and  auditory  cavities  too  were  tem- 
porarily closed.  And  here  and  there  a  mouth 
opening  after  a  little  breath,  received  the  same 
snowy  visitation. 

At  length,  from  putting  snow  into  each  other, 
we  took  to  putting  each  other  into  the  snow. 
Not  by  the  formal  and  deliberate  wrestle, 
but  pell-mell,  hurly-burly,  as  foot,  hand,  or 
head  could  find  an  advantage.  The  combat- 
ants were  covered  with  the  clinging  element. 
It  was  as  if  their  woollen  habiliments  had 
turned  back  to  their  original  white.  So  com- 
pletely were  we  all  besmeared  by  the  same 
material,  that  we  could  not  tell  friend  from  foe 
in  the  blind  encounter.  No  matter  for  this ; 
we  were  now  crazed  with  fun  ;  and  we  were 
ready  to  carry  it  to  the  utmost  extent  that  time 
and  space  and  snow  would  admit.     Just  op- 


AS -at  WAS.  109 

posite  the  school-house  door  the  hill  descended 
very  steeply  from  the  read  for  about  ten  rods. 
The  stone  wall  just  hero  was  quite  low,  and 
completely  covered  with  snow  even  before  this 
last  fall.  The  two  stoutest  champions  of  the 
fray  had  been  snowing  it  into  each  other  like 
storm-spirits  from  the  two  opposite  poles.  At^ 
length,  as  if  their  snow-bolts  were  exhausle  d 
they  seized  each  other  for  the  tug  of  muscle 
with  muscle.  They  had  unconsciously  worked 
themselves  to  the  precipitous  brink.  Another 
stout  fellow  caught  a  glimpse  of  their  position, 
gave  a  rush  and  a  push,  and  both  Arctic  and 
Antarctic  went  tumbling  heels  hindmost  down 
the  steep  declivity,  until  they  were  stopped  by 
the  new  fallen  snow  in  which  they  were  com- 
pletely buried  ;  and  one  with  his  nose  down, 
ward  as  if  he  had  voluntarily  dived  into  his 
own  grave.  This  was  a  signal  for  a  general 
push-off,  and  the  performer  of  the  sudden  ex- 
ploit was  the  first  to  be  gathered  to  his  victims 
below.  In  five  minutes  all  were  in  the  same 
predicament  but  one,  who  not  finding  himself 
attacked,  wiped  the  plaster  from  his  eyes,  and 
saw  himself  the  lone  hero  of  the  field.  He 
gave  a  victorious  shout,  then  not  likingsolitude 
for  a  playmate,  he  made  a  dauntless  leap  after 
the  rest,  who  were  now  thicklv  rising  from 


110  THE    DICTRICT    SCHOOL 

their  snowy  burial  to  life,  action  nnd  fun  anew. 
Now  the  game  is  to  put  each  other  down,  down, 
to  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  There  is  pulling, 
pushing,  pitching,  and  whirling,  every  species 
of  manual  attack,  except  the  pugilistic  thump 
and  knock  down.  One  long  lubber  has  fallen 
exactly  parallel  with  the  bottom,  and  before  he 
can  recover  himselftvvo  others  are  rolling  him 
down  like  a  senseless  log,  until  the  lumberers 
themselves  are  pitched  head  first  over  their  tim- 
ber by  other  hands  still  behind  them.  But  at 
length  we  are  all  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  and 
indeed  at  the  bottom  of  our  strength.  Which 
end  had  the  day  could  not  be  determined.  In 
one  sense  it  belonged  to  neither,  for  it  was  night. 
We  now  found  ourselves  in  a  plight  not  par- 
ticularly comfortable  to  ourselves  nor  likely  to 
be  very  agreeable  to  the  domestic  guardians 
we  must  now  meet.  But  the  battle  has  been 
described,  and  that  is  enough  ;  there  is  no  glo- 
rying in  the  suffering  that  succeeds. 


AS   IT  WAS.  ~         111 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ARITHMETIC COMMENCEMENT  PROGBESS  — 

LATE    IMPROVEMENT    IN    THE    ART  OF  TEACH- 
ING IT. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  I  commenced  the 
study  of  Arithmetic,  that  chiefest  of  sciences 
in  Yankee  estimation.  No  man  is  willing 
that  his  son  should  be  without  skill  in  figures. 
And  if  he  does  not  teach  him  his  A,  B,  C,  at 
home,  he  will  the  art  of  counting,  at  least. 
Many  a  father  deems  it  no  hardship  to  instruct 
his  child  to  enumerate  even  up  to  a  hundred, 
when  it  would  seem  beyond  his  capacity  or 
certainly  beyond  the  leisure  of  his  rainy  days 
and  winter  evenings  lo  sit  down  with  the  form- 
ality of  a  book  and  teach  him  to  read. 

The  entering  on  arithmetic  was  quite  an  era 
in  my  school-boy  life.  This  was  placing  me 
decidedly  among  the  great  boys,  and  within 
hailing  distance  of  manhood.  My  feelings 
were  consequently  considerably  elevated.  A 
new  Adams'  Arithmetic  of  the  latest  edition 
was  bought  for  my  use.  It  was  covered  by 
the  maternal   hand  with   stout  sheep-skin,  in 

the  economical  expectation  that  after  I  had 
11 


112  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

done  with  it,  it  might  help  still  younger  heads 
to  the  golden  science.  A  quire  of  foolscap 
wari  made  to  take  the  form  of  a  manuscript  of 
the  full  length  of  the  sheet,  with  a  pasteboard 
cover,  as  more  suitable  to  the  dignify  of  such 
superior  dimensions  than  flimsy  brown  paper. 

I  had  also  a  bran  new  slate,  for  Ben  used 
father's  old  one.  It  was  set  in  a  frame  wrought 
by  the  aforesaid  Ben,  who  prided  himself  on 
his  knack  at  tools,  considering  that  he  had 
never  served  an  apprenticeship  at  their  use. 
There  was  no  lack  of  timber  in  the  fabrication. 
Mark  Martin  said  that  he  could  make  a  better 
frame  with  a  jack-knife  in  his  left  hand,  and 
keep  his  right  in  his  pocket. 

My  first  exercise  was  transcribing  from  my 
Arithmetic  to  my  manuscript.  At  the  top  of 
the  first  page  I  penned  Arithmetic,  in  capi- 
tals an  inch  high,  and  so  broad  that  this  one 
word  reached  entirely  across  the  page.  At  a 
due  distance  below,  I  wrote  the  word  Addi- 
tion in  large,  coarse  hand,  beginning  with  a 
lofty  A,  wliich  seemed  like  the  drawing  of  a 
mountain  peak,  towering  above  the  level  vvil- 
derness  below.  Then  came  Rule,  in  a  little 
smaller  hand,  so  that  there  was  a  regular  gra- 
dation from  the  enormous  capitals  at  the  top, 
down  to  the  fine  running — no,  hobbling  hand  in 
which  I  wrote  off  the  rule. 


AS    IT   WAS.  113 

Now  slate  and  pencil  and  brain  came  into 
use.  I  met  vviih  no  difficulty  at  first ;  Simple 
Addition  was  as  easy  as  counting  my  fingers. 
But  there  was  one  thing  I  could  not  under- 
stand— that  carrying  of  tens.  It  was  abso- 
lutely necessary,  I  perceived,  in  order  to  get 
the  right  answer,  yet  it  was  a  mystery  which 
that  arithmetical  oracle,  our  schoolmaster,  did 
not  see  fit  to  explain.  It  is  possible  that  it 
was  a  mystery  to  him.  Then  came  Subtrac- 
tion. The  borrowing  of  ten  was  another 
unaccountable  operation.  The  reason  seem- 
ed to  me  then  at  the  very  bottom  of  the 
well  of  science ;  and  there  it  remained  for 
that  winter,  for  no  friendly  bucket  brought  it 
up  to  my  reach. 

Every  rule  was  transcribed  to  my  manu- 
script, and  each  sum  likewise  as  it  stood 
proposed  in  the  book,  and  also  the  whole  pro- 
cess of  figures  by  which  the  answer  was  found. 

Each  rule,  moreover,  was,  or  rather  was  to 
be  committed  to  memory,  word  for  word,  which 
to  me  was  the  most  tedious  and  difficult  job  of 
the  whole. 

I  advanced  as  far  as  Reduction  this  first 
winter,  and  a  third  through  my  manuscript, 
perhaps.  To  the  end  of  the  Arithmetic  seem- 
ed almost  as   far  oflT  in   the   future  as  that 


114  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

end  of  boyhood  and  under-age  restraint,  twen- 
ty-one. 

The  next  ivinter  I  began  at  Addition  again, 
to  advance  just  through  Interest.  My  third 
season  1  went  over  the  same  ground  again, 
and  besides  that,  cyphered  to  the  very  last 
sum  in  the  Rule  of  Three,  This  was  deemed 
quite  an  achievement  for  a  lad  only  fourteen 
years  old,  according  to  the  ideas  prevailing  at 
that  period.  Indeed  I  was  now  fitted  to  figure 
on  and  fill  up  the  blank  pages  of  manhood,  to 
solve  the  hard  question  how  much  money  I 
should  be  worth  in  the  course  of  years.  In 
plain  language^,  whoever  cyphered  through  the 
above-mentioned  rule  was  supposed  to  have 
arithmetic  enough  for  the  common  purposes 
of  life.  If  one  proceeded  a  few  rules  beyond 
this,  he  was  considered  quite  smart.  But  if 
he  went  clear  through.  Miscellaneous  Ques- 
tions and  all,  he  was  thought  to. have  an  ex- 
traordinary taste  and  genius  for  figures.  Now 
and  then  a  youth,  after  having  been  through 
Adams,  entered  upon  old  Pike,  the  arithmeti- 
cal sage  who  "  set  the  sums"  lor  the  preced- 
ing generation.  Such  were  called  great 
"  Arithmeticians." 

The  fourth  winter  I  advanced — but  it  is 
not  important  to  the  purpose  of  this  work  that 


As   IT   WAS.  115 

I  should  record  the  minutiaB  of  my  progress  in 
the  science  of  numbers.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
I  was  not  one  of  the  "  great  at  figures." 

The  female  portion  of  the  school, we  may  sup- 
pose, generally  expected  to  obtain  husbands  to 
perform  whatever  arithmetical  operations  they 
might  need,  beyond  the  counting  of  fingers,  so 
the  science  found  no  special  favor  with  them. 
If  pursued  at  all,  it  was  neglected  till  the  last 
year  or  two  of  their  schooling.  Most  were 
provident  enough  to  cypher  as  far  as  through 
the  four  simple  rules ;  for,  although  they  had  no 
idea  of  becoming  old  maids,  they  might  possi- 
bly  however  be  left  widows.  Had  arithmetic 
been  pursued  at  the  summer  school,  those 
who  intended  to  be  summer  teachers  would 
probably  have  thought  more  of  the  science, 
and  have  proceeded  further,  even  perhaps  to 
the  Rule  of  Three.  But  a  school-mistress 
would  as  soon  have  expected  to  teach  the  Ara- 
bic language,  as  the  numerical  science.  So 
ignorance  of  it  was  no  dishonor  to  even  the 
first  and  best  of  the  sex. 

But  what  a  change  the  last  few  years  have 
produced  in  respect  to  this  subject !  Honor 
and  gratitude  be  to  Pestalozzi ;  thanks  be  to 
our  countrymen,  Colburn,  Emerson,  and  oth- 
ers, for  making  what  was  the  hardest  and  dri- 
11* 


11(5  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

est  of  studies,  one  of  t])e  easiest  and  most  inter- 
esting.  They  have  al  length  tackled  the  intel- 
lectual team  aright ;  have  put  the  carriage  be* 
hind  the  carrier;  pshaw!  this  over-refinement 
spoils  the  illustration — the  cart  behind  the 
horse,  where  it  ought  always  to  have  been. 
Formerly,  memory,  the  mind's  baggage-wagon, 
to  change  the  word  but  continue  the  fi-rure,  was 
loaded  with  rules,  rules,  worr's,  words, to  top- 
heaviness,  and  sent  lumbering  along,  while  the 
understanding,  which  should  have  been  the  liv. 
ing  and  spirited  mover  of  the  vehicle,  was  kept 
ill-fed  and  lean,  and  put  loosely  behind  to  push 
after  it  as  it  could. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AUGUSTUS  STARR,  THE  PRIVATEER  WHO  TURNED 

PEDAGOGUE HIS     NEW     CREW   MUTINY,   AND 

PERFORM    A    SINGULAR   EXPLOIT. 

My  tenth  winter  our  school  was" put  under 
the  instruction  of  a  person  named  Augustus 
Starr.  He  was  a  native  of  a  neighboring 
town,  and  had  before  been  acquainted  with 
the  committee.  He  had  taught  school  some 
years  before,  but  for  the  last  few  years, 
had    been   engaged    in    a   business  not  par- 


As   IT   WAS.  117 

ticularly  conducive  to  improvement  in  the  art 
of  teaching.  Ho  had  been  an  inferior  officer 
aboard  a  privateer  in  the  la:e  war,  which  ter- 
nainaicd  only  the  winter  before.  At  the  re- 
turn of  peace  he  be'ook  himself  to  laad  again  ; 
and  till  something  more  suitable  to  his  tastes 
and  habits  should  offer,  he  concluded  to  re- 
sume school-keeping,  at  least  for  one  winter. 
He  came  to  our  town,  and  finding  an  old  ac- 
quaintance seeking  for  a  teacher,  he  offered 
himself,  and  was  accepted.  He  was  rather 
genteelly  dressed,  and  gentlemanly  in  his  man- 
ners. 

Mr.  Starr  soon  manifested  that  stern  com- 
mand, rather  than  mild  persuasion,  had  been 
his  method  of  preserving  order,  and  was  to  be 
still.  This  would  have  been  put  up  with, 
but  he  soon  showed  that  he  could  deal  in 
■'blows  as  well  as  words,  and  these  not  merely 
with  the  customary  ferule,  or  supple  and  ting- 
ling stick,  but  with  whatever  came  to  hand. 
He  knoclted  one  lad  down  with  bis  fist,  hurled 
a  stick  of  wood  at  another,  which  missed 
breaking  his  head  because  it  struck  the  ceil- 
ing, making  a  dent  which  fearfully  indicated 
what  would  have  been  the  consequence  had 
a  skul!  been  hit.  The  scholars  were  terri- 
fied, parents  were   alarmed,   and    some  kept 


118  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

their  younger  children  at  home.  There  wag 
an  uproar  in  the  district.  A  school-mf.'cting 
was  threatened  for  the  purpose  of  dismissing 
the  captain,  as  he  began  to  be  called,  in  freer- 
ence  to  the  station  he  had  lately  filled,  although 
it  was  not  a  captaincy.  But  he  commanded 
the  school-house  crew,  so  in  speaking  of  him 
they  gave  him  a  corresponding  title.  In  con- 
sequence of  these  indications,  our  officer  be- 
came less  dangerous  in  his  modes  of  punish- 
ment, and  was  permitted  to  continue  still  in 
command.  But  he  was  terribly  severe  never- 
theless ;  and  in  his  words  of  menace,  he  mani- 
fested no  particular  respect  for  that  one  of  the 
ten  comm.andments  which  forbids  profanity. 
But  he  took  pains  with  his  pupils,  and  they 
made  considerable  progress  according  to  the 
prevailing  notions  of  education. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  school,  however, 
Starr's  fractious  temper,  his  cuffs,  thumps, 
and  cudgellings,  waxed  dangerous  .again. 
There  were  signs  of  mun'ny  among  the  large 
scholars,  and  there  were  provocations  and 
loud  talk  among  parents.  The  man  of  vio- 
lence even  at  this  late  period  would  have 
been  dismissed  by  the  authority  of  the  district, 
had  not  a  sudden  and  less  formal  ejection  over- 
taken him. 


'     AS   IT   WAS.  119 

The  CaptaiQ  had  been  outrageously  severe, 
and  even  cruel  to  some  of  the  smaller  boys. 
1  he  older  brothers  of  the  sufferers,  with  others 
of  the  back  seat,  declared  among  them- 
selves, that  they  woud  put  him  by  force  out 
of  the  school-house,  if  any  thing  of  the  like 
should  ha[»pen  again.  The  very  afternoon  suc- 
ceeding this  resolution,  an  opportunity  offered 
to  put  it  to  the  test.  John  Howe,  for  some  tri- 
fling misdemeanor,  received  a  cut  with  the  edge 
of  the  ruler  on  his  head,  which  drew  blood. 
The  dripping  wound  and  the  scream  of  the 
boy,  were  a  signal  for  action,  as  if  a  mur- 
derer were  at  his  fell  deed  before  their 
eyes.  Thomas  Howe,  one  of  the  oldest  in 
the  school  and  the  brother  of  the  abused,  and 
Mark  Martin  were  at  the  side  of  our  priva- 
teer in  an  instant.  Two  others  followed.  His 
ruler  was  wrested  from  his  hand,  and  he  was 
seized  by  his  legs  and  shoulders,  before  he 
could  scarcely  think  into  what  hands  he  had 
fallen.  He  was  carried  kicking  and  swearing 
out  of  doors.  But  this  was  not  the  end  of 
his  headlong  and  horizontal  career.  "  To  the 
side-hill,  to  the  side-hill,"  cried  Mark,  who  had 
him  by  the  head.  Now  it  so  happened  that 
the  hill-side  opposite  the  school-house  door 
was   crusted,   and  "  as   smooth   and    slippery 


120  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

as  pure  ice,  from  a  recent  rain.  To  this  pitch 
then  he  was  borne,  and  in  all  the  hasle  that  his 
violent  struggles  would  permit.  Over  he  was 
thrust,  as  if  he  were  a  log,  and  down  he  went, 
giving  one  of  his  bearers  a  kick  as  he  was 
shoved  from  their  hands,  which  action  of  the 
foot  sent  him  more  swiftly  on  his  way  from  the 
rebound.  There  was  no  bush  or  stone  to  catch 
by  in  his  descent,  and  he  clawed  the  unyield- 
ing crust  with  his  nails,  for  the  want  of  any 
thing  more  prominent  on  which  to  lay  hold. 
Down,  down  he  went.  O  for  a  pile  of  stones 
or  a  thicket  of  thorns  to  cling  to,  even  at  the 
expense  of  torn  apparel  or  scratched  fingers. 
Down,  down  he  went,  until  he  fairly  came 
to  the  climax,  or  rather  anti-clint'.ax  of  his  ped- 
agogical career.  Mark  Martin,  who  retained 
singular  self-possession, cried  out,  "there  goes 
a  shooting  star." 

When  our  master  had  come  to  a  "  period  or 
full  stop,"  to  quote  from  the  spelling-book,  he 
lay  a  moment  as  if  he  had  left  his  breath  behind 
him,  or  as  if  querying  whether  he  should  con- 
sider himself  alive  or  not ;  or  perhaps  whether 
it  were  really  his  own  honorable  self  who 
had  been  voyaging  in  this  unseamnn-like 
fashion,  or  somebody  else.  Perhaps  he  was 
at  a  loss  for  the  points  of  compass  as  is  of- 


AS    IT   WAS.  12^1 

ten  the  case  in  tumbles  and  topsy-turvies.  He 
at  length  arose  and  stood  upright,  facing  the 
ship  of  hterature  which  he  had  lately  com- 
manded,  and  his  mutinous  crew,  great  and 
small,  male  and  female,  now  lining  the  side  of 
the  road  next  to  the  declivity,  from  which 
most  of  them  had  witnessed  his  expedition. 
The  movement  had  been  so  sudden,  and  the 
ejection  so  unanticipated  by  the  school  in  gene- 
ral, that  they  were  stupified  with  amazement. 
And  the  bold  performers  of  the  exploit  were 
almost  as  much  amazed  as  the  rest,  excepting 
Mark,  who  still  retained  coolness  enough  for 
his  joke.  "  What  think  of  the  coasting  trade, 
Captain,"  shouted  Mark,  "  is  it  as  profitable 
as  privateering  ?"  Our  coaster  made  no  reply, 
but  turned  in  pursuit  of  a  convenient  footing  to 
get  up  into  the  road,  and  to  the  school -house 
again.  While  he  was  at  a  distance  approach, 
ing  his  late  station  of  command,  Mark  Martin 
stepped  forward  to  hold  a  parley  with  hintj. 
*'  We  have  a  word  to  say  to  you,  sir,  before 
you  come  much  farther.  If  you  will  come 
back  peaceably,  you  may  come,  but  as  sure 
as  you  meddle  with  any  of  us,  we  will  make 
you  acquainted  with  the  heft  and  the  hard- 
ness of  our  fists,,  and  of  stones  and  clubs 
too,  if  we  must.     The  ship  is  no  longer  yours, 


122  Ae  district  school 

so  look  out,  for  we  are  our  own  men  now." 
Star  replied,  "I  do  not  wish  to  have  any  thing 
more  to  do  with  the  school  ;  but  there  is  ano- 
ther law  besides  club  law,  and  that  you  have 
got  to  take."  But  when  he  came  up  and  saw 
John  Howe's  face  stained  with  blood,  and  hia 
head  bound  up  as  if  it  had  received  the  stroke 
of  a  cutlass,  he  began  to  look  rather  blank. 
Our  spokesman  reminded  him  of  what  he  had 
done,  and  inquired  "  which  was  the  worst,  a 
ride  and  a  slide,  or  a  gashed  head  ?"  '•!  rather 
guess  that  you  are  the  one  to  look  out  for  the 
law,"  said  Thomas  Howe,  with  a  threatening 
tone  and  look.  Whether  this  hint  had  effect  I 
know  not,  but  he  never  commenced  a  prosecu- 
tion. He  gathered  up  his  goods  and  chattels 
and  left  the  school-house.  The  scholars  gath- 
ered up  their  implements  of  learning  and  left 
likewise,  after  the  boya  had  taken  one  more 
glorious  slide  down  hill. 

There  were  both  gladness  and  regret  in  that 
dispersion  ;  gladness  that  they  had  no  more 
broken  heads,  shattered  hands,  and  skinned 
backs  to  fear — and  regret,  that  the  season  of 
schooling,  and  of  social  and  delightful  play,  had 
been  cut  short  by  a  week. 

The  news  reached  most  of  the  district  in 
the  course  of  the  next  day,  that  our  "  man  of 


As  IT  WAS.  123 

war,"  as  he  was  sometimes  called,  had  sailed 
out  of  port  the  night  before. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ELEVENTH  WINTER MR.  SILVERSON,  OUR  FIRST 

TEACHER    FROM    COLLEGE HIS    BLUNDER     AT 

MEETING    ON    THE  SABBATH — HIS   CHARACTER 
AS  A  SCHOOLMASTER. 

This  winter  Major  Allen  was  the  committee, 
and  of  course  every  body  expected  a  dear 
master,  if  not  a  good  one — he  had  always  ex- 
pressed himself  so  decidedly  against  "  your 
cheap  trash."  They  were  not  disappointed. 
Ti)ey  had  a  dear  master,  high  priced  and  not 
much  worth.  Major  Allen  sent  to  college  for 
an  inslructer,  as  a  young  gentleman  from  such 
an  institution  must  of  course  be  qualified  as 
to  learning,  and  would  give  a  higher  tone  to 
the  school.  He  had  good  reason  for  the  ex- 
pectation, as  a  gentleman  from  the  same  in. 
stitution  had  taught  the  two  preceding  winters 
in  another  town  where  Major  Allen  was  in- 
timately acquainted,  and  gave  the  highest  sat- 
isfaction. But  he  was  a  very  different  sort  of 
person  from  Mr.  Frederic  Silverson,  of  the  city 

la 


124  THE  DISTRICT   SCHOOI. 


-,  member  of  the  junior  class  in 


college.  This  young  gentleman  did  not  teach 
eight  weeks,  at  eighteen  dollars  per  month,  for 
the  sake  of  the  trifling  sum  to  pay  his  college 
bills,  and  help  him  to  rub  a  little  more  easily 
through.  He  kept  for  fun,  as  he  told  his  fel- 
low bucks  ;  that  is,  to  see  the  fashions  of 
country  like,  "cut  capers"  among  folks  whose 
opinion  he  didn't  care  for,  and  to  bring  back 
something  to  laugh  about  all  the  next  term. 
The  money,  too,  was  a  consideration,  as  it 
would  pay  a  bill  or  two  which  ho  preferred 
that  his  very  indulgent  father  should  not 
know  of. 

Major  Allen  had  written  to  some  of  the  col- 
lege authorities  for  an  instructer,  not  doubting 
that  he  should  obtain  one  of  proved  worth,  or 
at  least  one  who  had  been  acquainted  with 
country  schools  in  his  boyhood,  and  would 
undertake  with  such  motives  as  would  ensure 
a  faithful  discharge  of  his  duties.  But  a  tutor, 
an  intimate  acquaintance  of  Silverson's  fam- 
ily, was  requested  to  aid  the  self-rusticating  son 
to  a  school,  so  by  this  means  this  city  beau  and 
college  buck,  was  sent  to  preside  over  our  dis- 
trict seminary  of  letters. 

Well,  Mr.  Silverson  arrived  on  Saturday 
evening  at  Capt.  Clark's.     Sunday  he  went  to 


AS  IT  W4S.  125 

meeting.  He  was,  indeed,  a  very  genteel 
looking  personage,  and  caused  quite  a  sensation 
among  the  young  people  in  our  meeting-liouse^ 
especially  lliose  of  our  district.  He  was  taU, 
but  rather  slender,  with  a  delicate  skin,  and 
a  cheek  whose  roses  had  not  been  uprooted 
from  their  native  bed  by  what,  in  college,  is 
called  hard  digging.  His  hair  was  cut  and 
combed  in  the  newest  fashion,  as  was  suppos* 
ed,  as  it  was  arranged  very  differently  from 
that  of  our  young  men.  Then  he  wore  a 
cloak  of  many  colored  plaid,  in  which  flaming 
red,  however,  was  predominant.  A  plaid  cloak 
—this  was  a  new  thing  in  our  obscure  town 
at  that  period,  and  struck  us  with  admiration. 
We  had  seen  nothing  but  surtouts  and  great 
coats  from  our  fathers'  sheep  and  our  mothers' 
looms.  His  cravat  was  tied  behind  ;  this  was 
another  novelty.  We  had  never  dreamed  but 
that  the  knot  should  be  made,  and  the  ends 
should  dangle  beneath  the  chin.  Then  his 
bosom  flourished  with  a  ruffle  and  glistened 
with  a  breast-pin,  such  as  were  seldom  seen  so 
far  among  the  hills. 

Capt.  Clark  unconsciously  assumed  a  state- 
liness  of  gait  unusual  to  him,  as  he  led  the 
way  up  the  centre  aisle,  introduced  the  gen- 
tleman into  his  pew,  and  gave  him  his  own 


126  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

seat,  that  is,  next  the  aisle,  and  the  most  re- 
spectable in  the  pew.  Tiie  young  gentleman 
not  having  been  accustomed  ;o  such  deference 
in  pubHc,  was  a  little  confused  ;  and  when  he 
heard  "  that  is  the  new  master,"  whispered 
very  distinctly  by  some  one  near,  and  on  look- 
ing up,  saw  himself  the  centre  of  an  all-sur- 
rounding stare,  he  was  smitten  with  a  fit  of 
bashfulness,  such  as  he  had  never  felt  before. 
So  he  quiddlod  with  his  fingers,  sucked  and 
bit  his  lips,  as  a  relief  to  his  feelings,  the  same 
as  those  rustic  slarers  would  have  done  at  a 
splendid  party  in  his  mother's  drawing-rooms. 
During  singing  he  was  intent  on  the  hymn- 
book,  in  the  prayer  he  bent  over  the  pew-side, 
and  during  the  sermon  looked  straight  at  the 
preacher,  a  church-like  deportment  which  he 
had  never,  perhaps,  manifested  before,  and 
probably  may  never  hive  since.  He  was  cer- 
tainly not  so  severely  decorous  in  that  meet- 
ing-hnuse  again.  After  the  forenoon  services 
he  committed  a  most  egregious  blunder,  by 
which  his  bashfulness  was  swallowed  up  in 
shame.  It  was  the  custom  in  country  towns 
then,  for  all  who  set  upon  the  centre  or  broad 
aisle,  as  it  was  called,  lo  remain  in  their  pews 
till  the  reverend  man  of  the  pulpit  had  passed 
along  by.     Our  city  bred  gentleman  was  not 


4S    IT    WA3.  127 

apprised  of  this  etiquette,  for  it  did  not  prevail 
in  the  metropolis.  Well,  as  soon  as  the  last 
amen  was  pronounced,  Captain  Clark  politely 
handed  him  his  hat,  and  being  next  to  the 
pew  door,  he  supposed  that  he  must  make  his 
egress  first.  He  stepped  out,  and  had  gone 
several  feet  down  the  aisle,  when  be  observed 
old  and  young  standing  in  their  pews  on  both 
sides,  in  front  of  his  advance,  staring  at  him 
as  if  surprised,  and  some  of  them  with  an  inci« 
pient  laugh.  He  turned  his  head,  and  gave 
a  glance  back,  and  behold,  he  was  alone  in 
the  long  avenue,  with  a  double  line  of  eyes 
aimed  at  him  from  behind  as  well  as  before. 
All  seemed  waiting  for  the  minister,  who  by 
this  time  had  just  reached  the  loot  of  the  pul- 
pit stairs.  He  was  confounded  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  his  mistake.  Should  he  keep 
on  or  return  to  the  pew,  was  a  momentary 
question.  It  was  a  dilemma  worse  than  any 
in  logic,  it  was  a  severe  "screw."*  But  finally, 
back  he  was  gning,  when  behold,  Capt.  Clark's 
pew  was  blocked  up  by  the  out-poured  and 
out-pouring  throng  of  people,  with  the  minis- 

*  When  a  scholar  gets  considerably  puzzled  in  reci- 
laUon,  he  is  said  in  college  to  take  a  screw.  When  he 
is  so  ignorant  of  his  lesson  as  not  to  be  able  to  recite 
at  all,  he  takes  a  dead  set. 

12* 


123  THE  BISTRICT   SCHOOL 

ter  at  their  head.  This  was  a  complete  "dead 
set,"  "above  all  Greek,  above  all  Roman 
fame."  What  should  he  do  novv  1  lie  wheeled 
again,  dropped  his  head,  put  his  left  hand  to 
his  face,  and  went  crouching  down  the  aisle, 
and  out  at  the  dour,  like  a  boy  going  out  with 
the  nose-bleed. 

On  tha  ensuing  morning  our  collegian  com- 
menced school.  He  had  never  taught,  and 
had  never  resided  in  the  country  before.  He 
had  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  daily  routine 
usually  pursued  in  school,  from  a  class  mate 
who  had  some  experience  in  the  vocation  ;  so 
he  began  things  right  end  foremost,  and  fin- 
ished at  the  other  extremity  in  due  order,  but 
they  were  most  clumsily  handled  all  the  way 
through.  His  first  fault  was  exceeding  indo- 
lence. He  had  escaped  beyond  the  call  of 
the  naorning  prayer  bell,  tiiat  had  roused  him 
at  dawn,  and  he  seemed  resolved  to  replenish 
his  nature  with  sleep.  He  was  generally 
awakened  to  the  consciousness  of  being  a 
schoolmaster  by  the  ringing  shouts  of  his 
waiting  pupils.  Then  a  country  breakfast  was 
too  delicious  a  contrast  to  college  common's,  to 
be  cut  short.  Thus  that  point  of  duration 
called  nine  o'clock,  and   school   time,   often 


AS  IT  ■WA.B.  129 

approximated   exceedingly  near  to   ten   that 
winter. 

Mr.  Silverson  did  not  visit  in  tlie  several 
families  of  the  district,  as  most  of  his  prede- 
cessors had  done.  He  would  have  been  pleas- 
ed to  visit  at  every  house,  for  he  was  socially 
inclined ;  and  what  was  more,  he  desired  to 
pick  up  "food  for  fun"  when  he  should  return 
to  college.  But  the  people  did  not  think 
themselves   "  smart"   enough  to   entertain   a 

collegian,  and  the  son  of  the  rich  Mr. , 

of  the   city    of  ,  besides.     Or,  perhaps, 

what  is  coming  nearer  the  precise  truth, 
his  habits  and  pursuits  were  so  different  from 
theirs,  that  they  did  not  know  exactly  how  to 
get  at  him,  and  in  what  manner  to  attempt  to 
entertain  him ;  and  he,  on  the  other  hand, 
did  not  know  how  to  fall  into  the  train  of  their 
associations  in  his  conversation,  so  as  to  make 
them  feel  at  ease,  and,  as  it  were,  at  home  with 
him.  Another  circumstance  ought  to  be  men- 
tioned, perhaps.  The  people  very  soon  con- 
tracted  a  growing  prejudice  against  our  school, 
master,  on  account  of  his  very  evident  unfitness 
for  his  present  vocation,  and  especially  his  un- 
pardonable indolence  and  neglect  of  duty. 

So  Mr.  Silverson  was  not  invited  out,  except- 
ing by  Major  Allen,  who  engaged  him,  and  by 


130  THE    D13TBICT    SCHOOL 

two  or  three  others  who  chanced  to  come  ia 
contact  with  him,  and  to  find  him  more  socia- 
bly disposed,  and  a  less  formidable  personage, 
than  they  anticipated.  He  spent  most  of  hi» 
evenings,  therefore,  at  his  boarding- place,  with 
one  volume  in  his  hand,  generally  that  of  a 
novel,  and  another  volume  issuing  from  his 
mouth — that  of  smoke  ;  and  as  his  chief  object 
was  just  to  kill  time,  he  was  not  careful  that  the 
former  should  not  be  as  fumy,  as  baseless,  and 
as  unprofitable  as  the  latter.  As  for  the  Greek,. 
Latin,  and  mathematics,  to  which  he  should 
have  devoted  some  portion  of  his  time,  accord- 
ing to  the  college  regulations,  he  never  looked 
at  them  till  his  return.  Then  he  just  glanced 
them  over,  and  trusted  luck  when  he  was  ex- 
amined for  two  weeks  study,  as  he  had  done  a 
hundred  times  befoVe  at  his  daily  recitation. 

What  our  young  college  buck  carried  back 
to  laugh  about  all  the  next  term,  I  do  not 
know,  unless  it  was  his  own  dear  self,  for 
being  so  foolish  as  to  undertake  a  business  for 
which  he  was  so  utterly  unfit,  and  from  which 
he  derived  so  little  pleasure,  compared  with 
his  anticipations. 

Before  closing  this  chapter  I  would  caution 
the  reader  not  to  take  the  subject  of  it  as  a 


AS   IT  WAS.  Idl 

speciimen  of  all  heirs  of  city  opulence  who  are, 
or  have  been,  members  of  college,  and  hare 
perhaps    attempted    country    school-keeping. 
I  hsive  known  many  of  very  different  stamp. 
One  gentleman  in  particular  rises  to  recollec- 
tion, the  son  of  very  affluent  but  also  very  ju- 
dicious  parents.     While  a  student  in  college, 
he  took  a  district  school  for  the  winter  vaca- 
tion.    His  chief  purpose    was  to  add  to   his 
stores  of  valuable  knowledge,  and  prepare  him- 
self  for  wider  usefulness.     He  would  not  study 
the  things  of  Ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  and 
of  Modern  Europe,  and  neglect  the  customs 
and  manners,  and  the  habits  of  thinking  and 
feeling  characteristic  of  his  own  nation.     But 
his  own  nation  were  substantially  the  farmers 
and  mechanics  scattered   on  the    hills    and 
along  the  valleys  of  the  country.    To  the  coun- 
try he  must  therefore  go,  and  into  the  midst 
of  their  very  donnestic  circles  to  study  them. 
But  he  did  not  seek  this  advantage  to  the  dis- 
advantage of    the    school   committed   to  hia 
charge.     He  endeavored  to  make  himself  ac- 
quainted with  his  duties  as  much  as  he  con- 
veniently could  beforehand,  and  then  he  de- 
voted himself  assiduously  to   them-     In  the 
instruction  of  the  young  he  derived  a  benefit 
additional  to  his  principal  object  in  taking  the 


13r2  THE    DI3TEICT    SCHOOt, 

Bchool.  He  learned  the  art  of  communicatiorr 
— of  adapting  himself  to  mind^  differing  ir/ 
capacity  and  cultivation  from  his  own.  In> 
this  way  he  acquired  a  tact  in  addressing  the 
young  and  the  less  intelligent  among  the  grow» 
up,  which  is  now  not  only  a  gratification,  but  of 
great  use.  He  became,  moreover,  interested 
in  the  great  subject  of  education  more  than  he 
otherwise  would — the  education  of  the  great 
mass  of  the  people,  so  that  now  he  is  one  of  the- 
most  ardent  and  efficient  agents  in  the  patriotic? 
and  benevolent  work. 

This  gentleman  was  exceedingly  liked  as  Sf 
teacher,  and  was  very  popular  as  a  visiter  itj 
the  families  of  the  district.  "  He  seems  sa 
like  one  of  us.  He  hasn't  an  atom  of  pride.'* 
Such  were  the  frequent  remarks.  And  this- 
was  what  they  did  not  expect  of  a  collegian-, 
city  born,  and  the  son  of  one  of  the  richest  men 
in  the  state. 

He  has  often  remarked  since,  that  these 
two  months  spent  in  a  district  school  and 
country  neighborhood,  were  of  as  much  value 
to  him  as  any  two  months  of  his  life  ;  indeed, 
of  more  value  than  any  single  year  of  his  life. 
His  books  enriched  and  disciplined  his  mind, 
perhaps ;  but  this  mingling  with  the  middle 
rank,  of  which  the  great  majority  is  composed. 


as  IT  WAS.  133 

«ore  thoroughly  Americanised  his  mind.  By 
his  residence  among  the  country  people,  he 
Jearned  to  do  what  should  be  done  by  every 
■ciiizen  of  the  United  States,  however  distitu 
guished  by  birth,  wealth,  talents  or  education 
— he  learned  to  identify  himself  with  the  great 
body  of  the  nation,  to  consider  himself  as  oae 
of  the  people. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  COLLEGE    MASTER   AGAIN HI6    CHABACTER  IN 

SCHOOL   AND    OUT OUR    FIRST   ATTEMPTS    AT 

COMPOSITION BRIEF     SKETCH     OF     ANOTHEK 

TEACHER. 

My  twelfth  winter  has  arrived.  It  was 
thought  best  to  try  a  te&cher  from  college 
-again,  as  the  committee  had  been  assured 
that  there  were  teachers  to  be  found  there  of 
the  first  order,  and  well  worth  the  high  price 
they  demanded  for  their  services.  A  Mr.  EI- 
h's  was  engaged  at  twenty  dollars  per  month, 
from  the  same  institution  mentioned  before. 
Particular  pains  were  taken  to  ascertain  the 
college  character  and  school-kee,  i  g  experi- 
ence of  the  gentleman  befora  his  engagemea. 


134  THE   DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

and  they  were  such  ae  to  warrant  the  highest 
expectations. 

The  instructer  was  .to  board  round  in  the 
several  families  of  the  district,  who  gave  the 
board  in  order  to  lengthen  the  school  to  the 
usual  term.  It  happened  that  he  was  to  be  at 
our  house  the  first  week.  On  Saturday  Mr. 
Ellis  arrived.  It  was  a  great  event  to  us  child- 
ren for  the  master  to  slop  at  our  house,  and 
one  from  college  too.  We  were  smitten  with 
bashfulness,  and  stiffened  into  an  awkward- 
ness  unusual  with  us,  even  among  strangers. 
But  this  did  not  last  long.  Our  guest  put  us  all 
at  ease  very  soon.  He  seemed  just  like  one  of 
us,  or  like  some  unpufled-up  uncle  from  gen- 
teeler  life,  who  had  dropped  in  upon  us  for  a 
night,  with  cordial  heart,  chatty  tongue,  and 
merry  laugh.  He  seemed  perfectly  acquainted 
with  our  prevailing  thoughts  and  feelings,  and 
let  his  conversation  slide  into  the  current  they 
flowed  in,  as  easily  as  if  he  had  never  been 
nearer  college  than  we  ourselves.  With  my 
father  he  talked  about  the  price  of  produce,  the 
various  processes  and  improvements  in  agricul- 
ture, and  the  politics  of  the  day,  and  such  other 
topics  as  would  be  likely  to  interest  a  farmer 
so  far  in  the  country.  And  those  topics,  in- 
deed, were  not  a  few.     Some  students  would 


AS   IT   WAS.  135 

have  set  in  dignified  or  rather  dumpish  silenc«, 
and  have  gone  to  bed  by  mid-evening,  simply 
because  those  who  sat  with  them  could  not 
discourse  on  those  deep  things  of  science,  and 
lofty  nsatters  of  literature,  which  were  parti- 
cularly  interesting  to  themselves.     With  my 
mother  Mr.  Ellis  talked  at  first  about  her  chil- 
dren.    He  patted  a  little  brother  on  his  cheek, 
took  a  sister  on  his  knee,  and  inquired  the  ba- 
by's  name.  Then  he  drew  forth  a  housewifely 
strain  coacerning  various  matters  in  country 
domestic  life.     Of  me  he  inquired  respecting 
my  studies  at  school  years  past  ;   and  even 
condescended  to  speak  of  his  own  boyhood  and 
youth,  and  of  the  sports  as  wejl  as  the  duties 
of  school.     The  fact  is,  th:it  Mr.  Ellis  had  al- 
ways lived  in  the  country  till  three  years  past, 
and  his  mind  was  full  of  rural  remembrances, 
and  he  knew  just  how  to  take  us  to  be  agreea- 
ble himself  and  to  elicit  entertainment  in  return. 
Mr.  Ellis  showed  himself  at  home  in  school 
as  well  as  at  the  domestic  fireside.     He  wai 
perfectly  familiar  with  his  duties,  as  custom 
had  prescribed  them  ;   but  he  did  not  abide 
altogether  by  the  old  usages.    He  spent  much 
time  in  explaining  those  rules   in  arithmetic 
and  grannnar,  and  those  passages  in  the  spell- 
13 


136  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ing-book  with  which  we  had  hitherto  lumbered 
our  memories. 

This  teacher  introduced  a  new  exercise  into 
our  school,  that  we  had  never  thought  of  be- 
fore as  being  possible  to  ourselves.     It  was 
composition.     We  hardly  knew  what  to  make 
of  it.     To  write — to  put  sentence  after  sen- 
tence like  a  newspaper,  a  book,  or  a  sermon — 
O,  we  could  not  do  this  ;  we  could  not  think 
of  such  a  thing  ;  indeed,  it  was  an  impossi- 
bility.    But  wo  must  try,  at  any  rate.     The 
subject  given  out  for  this  novel  use  of  thought 
and  pen,  ^as  friendship.     Friendship — what 
had  we  to  say  on  this  subject !     We  could  feel 
on  it,  perhaps,  especially  those  of  us  who  had 
read  a  novel  or  two,  and  had  dreamed  of  eter- 
nal friendship.     But  we  had  not  a  single  idea. 
Friendship?  O,  it  is  a  delightful  thing  !     This, 
or  something  similar,  was  about  all   we  poor 
creatures  could  think  of.     What  a  spectacle 
of  wretchedness  did  we  present!     A  stranger 
would  have  supposed  us  all  smitten  with  the 
tooth-aclie,  by  the  agony  expressed  in  the  face. 
One  poor  girl  put  her  head  down  into  a  cor- 
ner and    cried   tilV  the  nmster  excused  her. 
And  finally,  finding  that  neither  smiles  nor 
frowns  would  put  ideas  into  our  heads,  he  let 
us  go  for  that  week. 


AS    IT    WAS.  137 

In  about  a  fortnight,  to  our  horror,  the  exer- 
cise was  proposed  again.  But  it  was  only  to 
write  a  letter.  Any  one  could  do  as  n)uch 
as  this,  the  master  said,  for  almost  every  one 
had  occasion  to  do  it  in  the  course  of  life. 
Indeed,  we  thought,  on  the  whole,  that  we  could 
write  a  letter,  so  at  it  we  went  with  considerable 
alacrity.  But  our  attempts  at  the  epistolatory 
were  nothing  like  those  spirited,  and  even  witty, 
products  of  thought,  which  used  ever  to  be 
flying  from  seat  to  seat  in  the  shape  of  billets. 
The  sprightly  fancy  and  the  gushing  heai't 
seemed  to  have  been  chilled  and  deadened  by 
the  ijeflection  that  a  letter  niusl  be  written,  and 
the  master  must  see  it.  These  epistolatory  com- 
positions  generally  began,  continued,  and  closed 
all  in  the  same  way,  as  if  all  had  got  the  same 
recipe  from  iheir  grandmothers  for  letter 
writing.  They  mostly  commenced  in  this  man- 
ner— "  Dear  friend,  I  take  my  pen  in  hand  to 
inform  you  that  I  am  well,  and  hope  you  are 
enjoying  the  same  blessing."  Then  there 
would  be  added,  perhaps,  "  we  have  a  very 
good  schoolmaster  ;  have  you  a  good  one  ? 
How  long  has  your  school  got  to  keep  ?  We 
have  had  a  terrible  stormy  time  on't  ?"  &c. 
Mark  Martin  addressed  the  master  in  his  epis- 
tle.    What  its  contents  were  I  could  not  find 


138  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

out,  but  I  saw  Mr.  Ellis  read  it.  At  first  he 
looked  grave,  as  at  the  assurance  of  the  youth, 
then  a  little  severe,  as  if  his  dignity  was  out- 
raged, but  in  a  moment  ho  snniled,  and  finally 
he  almost  burst  out  with  laughter  at  some 
closing  witticism. 

Mark's  was  the  only  composition  that  had 
any  nature  and  soul  in  it.  He  wrote  what  he 
thought,  instead  of  thinking  what  to  write,  like 
the  rest  of  us,  who,  in  effort,  thought  just  no- 
thing at  all,  for  we  wrote  words  which  we  had 
seen  written  a  hundred  times  before. 

Mr.  Ellis  succeeded  in  delivering  us  from 
our  stale  and  flat  formalities  before  he  had  done. 
He  gave  us  no  more  such  abstract  and  lack- 
idea  subjects  as  friendship.  He  learned  better 
how  to  accommodate  the  theme  to  the  youthful 
mind.  We  were  set  to  describe  what  we  had 
seen  with  our  eyes,  heard  with  our  ears, 
and  what  had  particularly  interested  our 
feelings  at  one  time  and  another.  One  boy 
described  the  process  of  cider-making.  An- 
other gave  an  account  of  a  squirrel  hunt ; 
another  of  a  great  husking — each  of  which 
had  been  witnessed  the  autumn  before.  The 
girls  described  certain  domestic  operations. 
One,  I  remember,  gave  quite  an  amusing  ac- 
count  of  the  coming,   and   going,  and  final 


AS   IT    WAS.  139 

tarrying  of  her  mother's  soap.  Another  pen- 
ned a  sprightly  dialogue,  supposed  to  have 
taken  place  between  two  sisters  on  the  ques- 
tion,  which  should  go  a  visiting  with  mother, 
and  which  should  stay  at  home  and  "  take  care 
of  the  things." 

The  second  winter,  (for  he  taught  two,)  Mr. 
Ellis  occasionally  proposed  more  abstract  sub- 
jects, and  such  as  required  more  thinking  and 
reasoning,  but  still  such  as  were  likely  to  he 
interesting,  and  on  which  he  knew  his  scholars 
to  possess  at  least  a  few  ideas. 

I  need  not  say  how  popular  Mr.  Ellis  waa 
in  the  district.  He  was  decidedly  the  best 
school-master  1  ever  went  to,  and  he  was  the 
iast. 

•I  have  given  him  a  place  here,  not  because 
he  is  to  be  classed  with  his  predecessors  who 
taught  -the  disirict  school  as  it  was,  but  because 
Jie  closed  the  series  of  my  own  instructers 
there,  and  was  the  last,  moreover,  who  occu- 
pied the  old  school-house.  He  commenced  a 
new  era  in  our  district. 

Before  closing  I  must  give  one  necessary 
hint.  Let  it  not  be  inferred  from  this  narra- 
tive of  my  own  particular  experience,  that  the 
best  teachers  of  district  schools  are  to  be  found 

in  college  only.     The  very  next  winter  the 
18* 


140  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

school  was  blessbd  with  an  instructer  even 
superior  to  Mr.  Ellis,  although  he  was  not  a 
collegian.  Mr.  Henry,  however,  had  well  dia- 
ciplined  and  informed  his  mind,  and  was, 
moreover,  an  experienced  teacher.  I  was  not 
one  of  his  pupils,  but  I  was  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  knew  of  his  methods,  his  faithful- 
ness,  and  success.  His  tall,  spare,  stooping 
and  dyspeptic  form  is  now  distinctly  before  my 
mind's  eye.  I  see  him  wearied  with  incessant 
exertion,  taking  his  v/ay  homeward  at  the  close 
of  the  afternoon  school.  His  pockets  are 
filled  with  compositions,  to  be  looked  over  in 
private.  There  are  school  papers  in  his  hat 
too.  A  large  bundle  of  writing  books  is  under 
his  arm.  Through  the  long  evening,  and  in 
the  little  leisure  of  the  morning,  I  see  him  still 
hard  at  work  for  the  good  of  his  pupils.  Perhaps 
he  is  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  the  larger  schol- 
ars, whom  he  has  invited  to  spend  the  evening 
with  him,  to  receive  a  more  thorough  explana- 
tion of  some  branch  or  item  of  study,  than 
there  was  time  for  in  school.  But  stop — Mr. 
Henry  did  not  keep  the  district  school  as  it 
was — why,  then,  am  I  describing  him  ? 


AS  n  WAS.  141 

CHAPTER  XXr. 

THE     EXAMINATION    AT    THE    CLOSING    OF    THE 
SCHOOL. 

The  district  school  as  it  was,  generally 
closed  in  the  winter  with  what  was  called  an 
"examination."  This  was  usually  attended  by 
the  minister  of  the  town,  the  committee  who 
engaged  the  teacher,  and  such  of  the  parents 
as  chose  to  come  in.  Very  few,  however, 
were  sufficiently  interested  in  the  improve, 
ment  of  their  children,  to  spend  three  uncom- 
fortable  hours  in  the  hot  and  crowded  school- 
room, listening  to  the  same  dull  round  of 
words,  year  after  year.  If  the  school  had 
been  under  the  care  of  a  good  instructer,  all 
was  well  of  course,  if  a  poor  one,  it  was  too 
late  to  help  it.  Or,  perhaps,  they  thought  they 
could  not  afford  the  time  on  a  fair  after- 
noon, and  if  the  weather  was  stormy,  it  was 
rather  more  agreeable  to  stay  at  home  ;  be- 
sides,  "nobody  else  will  be  there,  and  why 
should  I.go  ?"  Whether  such  were  the  reflec- 
tions of  parents  or  not,  scarcely  more  than 
half  of  them,  at  most,  ever  attended  the  exam- 
ination. I  do  not  recollect  that  the  summer 
school  was  examined  at  all.     I  know  not  the 


142  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

reason  of  this  omission,  unless  it  was  that  such 
had  been  the  custom  from  time  immemorial. 

We  shall  suppose  it  to  be  the  last  day  of  the 
winter  school.  The  scholars  have  on  their 
better  clothes,  if  their  parents  are  somewhat  par- 
ticular,  or  if  the  every-day  dress  "  looks  quite 
too  bad."  The  young  ladies,  especially,  wear 
the  next  best  gown,  and  a  more  cleanly  and 
tastefully  worked  neckerchief.  Their  hair  dis- 
plays  more  abundant  curls  and  a  more  elabo- 
rate adjustment. 

It  is  noon.  The  school  room  is  undergo- 
ing  the  operation  of  being  swept  as  clean  as  a 
worn-out  broom  in  the  hands  of  one  girl,  and 
hemlock  twigs  in  the  hands  of  others,  will 
permit.  Whew — what  a  dust !  Alas,  for  Ma- 
ry'a  cape,  so  snow-white  and  smooth  in  the 
morning.  Hannah's  curls,  which  lay  so  close  to 
each  other,  and  so  pat  and  still  on  her  temples, 
have  got  loose  by  the  exercise,  and  have 
stretched  themselves  into  the  figure  of  half- 
straightened  corkscrews,  nearly  unfit  for  ser- 
vice. The  spirit  of  the  house- wife  dispossesses 
the  bland  and  smiling  spirit  of  the  school-girl. 
The  masculine  candidates  for  matrimony  can 
now  give  a  shrewd  guess  who  are  endued  with 
an  innate  propensity  to  scold  ;  who  will  be 
Xantippes  to  their  husbands,  should  they  ever 


AS  IT  WAS.  143 

get  their  Cupid's  nests  made  up  again  so  as 
to  catch  them.  "Be  still,  Sam,  bringing  in 
snow,"  screams  Mary.  "  Get  away  boys,  off 
out  doors,  or  I'll  sweep  you  into  the  fire,"  snaps 
out  Hannah,  as  she  brushes  the  urchins'  legs 
with  her  hemlock.  "  There,  take  that," 
screaches  Margaret,  as  she  gives  a  provoking 
lubber  a  knock  with  the  broom  handle  ;  "there, 
take  that,  and  keep  your  wet,  dirty  feet  down 
off  the  seats."  The  sweeping  and  scolding 
are  at  length  done.  The  girls  are  now  brush- 
ing their  clothes,  by  flapping  handkerchiefs 
over  themselves  and  each  other.  The  dust 
is  subsiding;  one  can  almost  breathe  again. 
The  master  has  come,  all  so  prim,  with  his  best 
coat  and  a  clean  cravat,  and  may  be,  a  collar 
is  stiff  and  high  above  it.  His  hair  is  combed 
in  its  genteelest  curvatures.  He  has  returned 
earlier  than  usual,  and  the  boys  are  cut  short 
in  their  play — the  glorious  fun  of  tne  last  noon- 
time. But  they  must  all  come  in.  But  what 
shall  the  visiters  sit  on  ?  "  Go  up  to  Captain 
Clark's  and  borrow  some  chairs,"  says  the 
master.  A  half  a  dozen  boys  are  off  in  a  mo- 
ment,  and  next,  more  than  half  a  dozen  chairs 
are  sailing,  swinging,  and  clattering  through 
the  air,  and  set  in  a  row  round  the  spelling-floor. 


144  THli    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

The  school  are  at  lengtli  all  seated  at  their 
books,  in  palpitating  expectation.  The  master 
makes  a  speech  on  the  importance  of  speaking 
up  "  loud  and  distinct,"  and  of  refraining  from 
whispering,  and  all  other  things  well  known  to 
be  forbidden.  The  writing  books  and  cypher- 
ing manuscripts  are  gathered  and  piled  on  the 
desk,  or  the  bench  near  it.  "  Where  is  your 
manuscript,  Margaret  ?"  "  I  carried  it  home 
last  night."  "Carried  it  home! — what's  that 
fer  ?"  "Cause  I  was  ashamed  on't — I  haven't 
got  half  so  far  in  'rethmetic  as  the  rest  of  the 
girls  who  cypher,  I've  had  to  stay  at  home  so 
much." 

A  heavy  step  is  heard  in  the  entry.  All  i" 
hushed  within.  They  do  nothing  but  breatlt.  ''. 
The  door  opens — it  is  nobody  but  one  of  thb* 
largest  boys  who  went  home  at  noon.  There 
are  sleigh-bells  approaching — hark,  do  they 
stop  ?  yes,  up  in  Captain  Clark's  shed.  Now 
there  is^ another  tread,  then  a  distinct  and  con- 
fident  rap.  The  master  opens  the  door,  and 
the  minister  salules  him,  and  advancing,  re- 
ceives the  simultaneous  bows  and  courtesies  of 
the  awed  ranks  in  front.  He  is  seated  in  the 
most  conspicuous  and  honorable  place,  per- 
haps in  the  magisterial  desk.  Then  some  of 
the  neighbors  scatter  in  and  receive  the  same 


_-  AS  IT  W^S.  145 

homage,  though  it  is  proffered  with  a  more 
careless  action  and  aspect. 

Now  commences  the  examination.  First, 
the  younger  classes  read  and  spell.  Observe 
that  little  fellow,  am  he  steps  from  his  seat  to 
take  his  place  on  the  floor,  ft  is  his  day  of 
public  triumph,  for  he  is  at  the  head  ;  he  has 
been  there  the  most  times,  and  a  ninepence 
swings  by  a  flaxen  string  from  his  neck.  His 
skin  wants  letting  out,  it  will  hardly  hold  the 
important  young  gentleman.  His  mother  told 
him  this  morning,  when  he  left  home,  "  to 
speak  up  like  a  minister,"  and  his  shrill  oratory 
is  almost  at  the  very  pinnacle  of  utterance. 

The  third  class  have  read.  They  are  now 
spelling.  They  are  famous  orthographers  ; 
the  mightiest  words  of  the  spelling  columns  do 
not  intim.idate  them.  Then  come  the  numbers, 
the  abreviations,  and  the  punctuation.  Some 
of  the  little  throats  are  almost  choked  by  the 
hurried  ejection  of  big  words  and  stringy  sen- 
tences. 

The  master  has  gone  through  with  the  sev. 
eral  accomplishments  of  the  class.  They  are 
about  to  take  their  seats.  "  Please  to  let  them 
stand  a  few  moments  longer,  I  should  like  fo 
put  out  a  few  w((rds  to  them,  myself,"  says  the 
minister.     Now  look  out.    They  expect  words 


146  THE    DISTRICT   6CH00L 

as  long  as  their  finger,  from  the  widest  columns 
of  the  spelling-book,  or  perhaps  such  as  are 
found  only  in  the  dictionary.  "  Spell  wrist," 
says  he  to  the  little  sweller  at  the  head.  "  O, 
what  an  easy  word  !"  r-i-s4  wrist.  It  is  not 
right.  The  next,  the  next — they  all  try,  or 
rather  do  not  attempt  the  word,  for  if  r-i-s-t 
does  not  spell  wrist,  they  cannot  conceiv^e  what 
does.  "  Spell  gown,  Anna.''  G-o-u-n-d.  "  O 
no,  it  is  gown,  not  gound.  The  next  try.'' 
None  of  them  can  spell  this.  ■  He  then  puts  out 
penknife,  which  is  spelt  with  the  k,  and  then 
andiron,  which  his  honor  at  the  head  rat- 
tles off  in  this  way,  *'h-a-n.d  hand  i-u-r-n  urn 
hand-iurn." 

The  poor  little  things  are  confused  as  well 
as  discomfited.  They  hardly  know  what  it 
means.  The  teacher  is  disconcerted  and  mor- 
tified. It  dawns  on  him,  that  while  he  has  been 
following  the  order  of  the  bock,  and  priding 
himself  that  so  young  scholars  can  spell  such 
monstrous  great  words — words  which,  perhaps, 
they  will  never  use,  they  cannot  spell  the  names 
of  the  most  familiar  objects.  The  minister  has 
taught  him  a  lesson. 

The  writing  books  are  now  examined. 
The  mighty  pile  is  lifted  from  the  desk  and 
scattered  along  through  the  hands  of  the  vis- 


AS    IT  WAS.  14T 

iters.  Some  are  commended  for  the  neatness 
with  which  they  have  kept  their  manuscripts  ; 
some  for  improvement  in  writing  ;  of  some, 
probably  of  the  majority,  is  said  nothing  at  all. 

"Whew!"  softly  breathed  the  minister,  as  he 
opened  a  writing  book,  some  of  whose  pages 
were  a  complete  ink-souse.  He  looked  on 
the  outside,  and  Simon  Patch  was  the  name 
that  iciy  sprawling  in  the  dirt  which  adhered 
to  the  newspaper  cover.  Simon  spied  his 
book  in  the  reverend  gentleman's  hands,  and 
noticed  his  queer  stare  at  it.  The  minister 
looked  up  ;  Simon  shrunk  and  looked  down, 
for  he  felt  that  his  eye  was  about  to  seek  him. 
He  gazed  intensely  in  the  book  before  him 
without  seeing  a  word,  at  the  same  time  earn- 
esily  sucking  the  pointed  lapel  of  his  Sunday 
coat.  But  Simon  escaped  without  any  audible 
rebuke. 

Now  comes  the  arithmetical  examination  ; 
that  is,  the  proficients  in  this  branch  are  re- 
quired to  say  the  rules.  Alas  me,  I  had  no 
reputation  at  all  in  this  science.  I  could  not 
repeat  more  than  half  the  rules  I  had  been 
over,  nor  more  than  the  half  of  that  half  in 
the  words  of  the  book,  as  others  could.  What 
■hame  and  confusion  efface  were  mine  on  the 
last  day,  when  wo  came  to  be  questioned  in 

13 


149  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

Arithmetic.  But  when  Mr.  Ellis  had  his  ex- 
amination, I  looked  up  a  little,  and  felt  that  I 
was  not  so  utterly  incompetent  as  my  pre- 
vious teachers,  together  with  myself,  had  sup- 
posed. 

Then  came  the  display  in  Grammar,  our 
knowledge  of  which  is  especiftUy  manifested 
in  parsing.  A  piece  is  selected  which  we 
have  parsed  in  the  course  of  the  school,  and 
on  which  we  are  again  drilled  so  as  to  become 
as  familiar  with  the  parts  of  speech,  and  tlve 
governments  and  agreements  of  which,  as  we 
are  with  the  buttons  and  button-holes  of  our 
jackets.  We  appear  of  course  amazingly  ex- 
pert. 

VVe  exhibited  our  talent  at  reading  likewise, 
in  passages  selected  for  the  occasion,  and  con- 
ned over,  and  read  over,  until  the  dullest  might 
call  all  the  words  right,  and  the  most  care  less 
mind  all  the  "stop*  and  marks." 

But  this  examination  was  a  stupid  piece  of 
business  to  mo,  as  is  evident  enough  from  this 
stupid  account  of  it.  The  expectation  and 
preparation  were  somewhat  exhilarating,  as  I 
trust  has  been  perceived ;  but  as  soon  as  the 
anticipated  scene  had  commenced,  it  grew 
dull,  and  still  more  dull,  just  like  this  chap- 
ter. 


AS    IT    WAS.  149 

But  let  us  finish  tlws  examination  now  we  are 
about  it.  Suppose  it  finished  then.  The  minis- 
ter remarks  to  the  teacher,  "  your  school  ap- 
pears very  well,  in  general,  sir ;"  then  he  makes 
a  speech,  then  a  prayer,  and  his  business  is 
done.  So  is  that  of  school-master  and  school. 
"  You  are  dismissed,"  is  uttered  for  the  last 
time  this  season.  It  is  almost  dark,  and  but 
little  time  left  for  a  last  trip-up,  snow-ball,  or 
slide  down  hill.  The  little  boys  and  girls,  with 
their  books  and  dinner  baskets,  ride  home  wi  h 
their  parents,  if  they  happen  to  be  there.  The 
larger  ones  have  some  last  words  and  laughs 
together,  and  then  they  leave  the  Old  School- 
house  till  December  comes  round  again. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE     OLD     SCHOOL-HOPSE    AGAIX — ITS    APPEAR- 
ANCE    THE     LAST    WINTER WHY     SO     LONG 

OCCUPIED — A    NEW   ONE    AT   LAST. 

My  first  chapter  was  about  the  Old  School- 
house — so  shall  be  my  last.  The  declining 
condition  in  which  we  first  found  if,  has  waxed 
into  exceeding  infirmity  by  the  changes  of 
tliirtccn   years.      After    the   summer    school 


150  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOt 

succeeding  my  thirteenth  winter  of  district 
education,  it  was  sold  and  carried  piece-meal 
away,  ceasing  forever  from  the  form  and  name 
of  school-house. 

I  would  have  my  readers  see  how  the  long- 
used  and  hard-used  fabric  appeared,  and  how 
near  to  dissolution  it  came  before  the  district 
could  agree  to  accommodate  their  children 
with  a  new  one. 

We  will  now  suppose  it  my  last  winter  at 
our  school.  Here  we  arc  inside,  let  us  look 
around  a  little. 

The  long  writing  benches  arrest  our  atten- 
tion  as  forcibly  as  any  thing  in  sight.  They 
were  originally  of  substantial  plank,  an  inch 
and  a  half  thick.  And  it  is  well  that  they 
were  thus  massive.  No  board  of  ordinary 
measure  would  have  stood  the  hackings  and 
hcwings,  the  scrapings  and  borings  which 
have  been  inflicted  on  those  sturdy  plank.  In 
tlie  first  place,  the  edge  next  the  scholar  is 
notched  from  end  to  end,  presenting  an  appear- 
ance something  like  a  broken-toothed  mill- 
saw.  Upon  the  upper  surface  there  has  been 
carved  or  pictured  with  ink,  the  likeness  of 
all  things  in  the  heavens  and  on  earth,  over 
beheld  by  a  country  school-boy ;  and  sundry 
guesses    at   things   he  never  did  sec.     Fifty 


AS   IT   WAS.  151 

years  has  this  poor  timber  been  subjected  to  the 
knives  of  idlers,  and  almost  the  fourth  of  fifty 
I  have  hacked  on  it  myself;  and  by  this  last 
winter  their  width  has  become  diminished  near- 
ly one-half.  There  are,  moreover,  innumera- 
ble writings  on  the  benches  and  ceilings.  On 
the  boy's  side  were  scribbled  the  names  of  the 
Hannahs,  the  Marys,  and  the  Harriets,  toward 
whom  young  hearts  were  beginning  to  soften 
in  the  first  gentle  meltings  of  love.  One  would 
suppose  that  a  certain  Harriet  A.  was  the  most 
distinguished  belle  the  district  has  ever  pro- 
duced,  from  the  frequency  of  her  name  on 
bench  and  wall. 

The  cracked  and  patched  and  puttied  win- 
dows are  now  still  more  diversified  by  here 
and  there  a  square  of  board  instead  of  glass. 

The  master's  desk  is  in  pretty  good  order. 
The  first  one  was  knocked  over  in  a  noon-time 
scufiie,  and  so  completely  shattered  as  to  ren- 
der a  new  one  necessary.  This  has  stood 
about  ten  years. 

As  to  the  floor,  had  it  been  some  winters  we 
could  not  have  seen  it  without  considerable 
scraping  away  of  dust  and  various  kinds  of  lit- 
ter ;  for  a  broom  was  not  always  provided,  and 
boys  would  not  wallow  in  the  snow  after  hem- 
lock, and  sweeping  could  not  so  well  be  done 
15 


152  THE  DISTRICT  SCHOOL 

wilh  a  stick.  This  winter,  however,  Mr.  Ellis 
takes  care  that  the  floor  shall  be  visible  the 
greater  part  of  the  time.  It  is  rough  with 
sundry  patches  of  board  nailed  over  chinks 
and  knot-holes  made  by  the  wear  and  tear 
of  years. 

Now  we  will  look  at  the  fire-place.  One 
end  of  the  hearth  has  sunk  an  inch  and  a  half 
below  the  floor.  There  are  crevices  between 
some  of  the  tiles,  into  which  coals  of  fire  some- 
times drop  and  smoke  up  and  make  the  boys 
spring  for  snow.  The  andirons  have  each  lost 
a  fore-foot,  and  the  office  of  the  important 
member  is  supplied  by  bricks  which  had  been 
dislodged  from  the  chimney-top.  The  fire- 
shovel  has  acquired  by  accident  or  age  a  ven- 
erable stoop.  The  tongs  can  no  longer  be 
called  a  pair,  for  the  lack  of  one  of  the  fellow- 
limbs.  The  bar  of  iron  running  from  jamb  to 
jamb  in  front,  how  it  is  bent  and  sinking  in  the 
middle,  by  the  pressure  of  the  sagging  fab- 
ric above !  Indeed  the  whole  chimney  is  quite 
ruinous.  The  bricks  are  loose  here  and  there 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  fire-place ;  and  the  chim- 
ney-top has  lost  so  much  of  its  cement  that 
every  high  wind  dashes  off  a  brick,  roll- 
ing and  sliding  on  the  roof,  and  then  tum- 
bling to  the  ground,  to  the  danger  of  cracking 


AS  IT  WAS.  153 

whatever  heedless  skull  may  hjuppen  in  the 
way. 

The  window-shutters,  after  having  shattered 
the  glass  by  the  slams  of  many  years,  have 
broken  their  own  backs  at  length.  Some  have 
fallen  to  the  ground,  and  are  going  the  way  of 
all  things  perishable.  Others  hang  by  a  sin- 
gle hiage,  which  is  likely  to  give  way  at  the 
next  high  gale,  and  consign  the  dangling  shut- 
ter to  the  company  of  its  fellows  below. 

The  clap-boards  are  here  and  there  loose, 
and  dropping  one  by  one  from  their  fastenings. 
One  of  these  thin  and  narrow  appendages, 
sticking  by  a  nail  at  one  end,  and  loose  and 
slivered  at  the  other,  sends  forth  the  most  ear- 
rending  music  to  the  skilful  touches  of  the 
North-west.  In  allusion  to  the  soft-toned  instru- 
ment of  iEolus,  it  may  be  termed  the  Borean 
harp.  Indeed,  so  many  are  the  avenues  by 
which  the  wind  passes  in  and  out,  and  so  vari- 
ous are  the  notes,  according  as  the  rushing  air 
vibrates  a  splinter,  makes  the  windows  clatter, 
whistles  through  a  knot-hole,  and  rumbles  like 
big  base  down  the  chimney,  that  the  edifice 
may  be  imagined  uproarious  winter's  Panhar- 
monicon,*  played  upon  in  turn  by  all  the  winds. 

*  The  Panhannonicon  is  a  large  instrument  in  which 
the  peculiar  tones  of  several  smaller  instruments  are 
combined. 


154  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

Such  is  the  condition  of  the  Old  School- 
house,  supposing  it  to  be  just  before  we  leave  it 
forever,  at  the- close  of  my  thirteenth  and  last 
winter  at  our  district  school.  It  has  been  re- 
sorted to  summer  after  summer,  and  winter  af- 
ter winter,  although  the  observation  of  parents 
and  the  sensations  of  children  have  long  given 
evidence  that  it  ought  to  be  abandoned. 

At  every  meeting  on  school  affairs  that  has 
been  held  for  several  years,  the  question  of  a 
new  school-house  has  been  discussed.  All 
agree  on  the  urgent  need  of  one,  and  all  are 
willing  to  contribute  their  portion  of  the  where- 
with ;  but  when  they  attempt  to  decide  on  its 
location,  then  their  harmonious  action  is  at  an 
end.  All  know  that  this  high  bjeak  hill,  the 
coldest  spot  within  a  mile,  is  not  the  place ; 
it  would  be  stupid  folly  to  put  it  here.  At  the 
foot  of  the  hill  on  either  side  is  as  snug  and 
pleasant  a  spot  as  need  be.  But  the  East- 
enders  will  not  permit  its  location  on  the  op- 
posite side,  and  the  West-enders  are  as  obsti- 
nate on  their  part.  Each  division  declares 
that  it  will  secede  and  form  a  separate  district 
should  it  be  carried  further  off,  although  in  this 
case  they  must  put  up  with  much  cheaper 
teachers,  or  much  less  schooling,  or  submit  to 
twice  the  taxes. 


AS   IT    WAS.  155 

Thus  they  have  tossed  the  ball  of  discussion, 
and  sometimes  hurled  that  of  contention  back 
and  forth,  year  after  year,  to  just  about  as 
much  profit,  as  their  children  haVe  flung  snow- 
balls in  play,  or  chips  and  cakes  of  ice  when 
provoked.  At  length  Time,  the  final  decider 
of  all  things  material,  wearied  with  their  jars, 
is  likely  to  end  them  by  tumbling  the  old  ruin 
about  their  ears. 

Months  have  passed  ;  it  is  near  winter  again. 
There  is  great  rejoicing  among  the  children, 
satisfaction  among  the  parents,  harmony  be- 
tween the  two  ends.*  A  new  school-house  has 
been  erected  at  last — indeed  it  has.  A  door 
of  reconciliation  and  mutual  adjustment  was 
opened  in  the  following  manner. 

That  powerful-to-do,  but  tardy  personage, 
the  Public,  began  to  be  weary  of  ascending 
and  descending  Captain  Clark's  hill.  He  be* 
gan  to  calculate  the  value  of  time  and  horse- 
flesh. One  day  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  would 
be  as  "  cheap  and  indeed  much  cheaper,"  to  go 
round  this  hill  at  the  bottom  than  to  go  round 
it  over  the  top ;  for  it  is  just  as  far  frorti  side  to 
side  of  a  ball  in  one  direction  as  in  another, 
and  this  was  a  case  somewhat  similar.  He 
perceived  that  there  would  be  no  more  lost 


156  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL,    ETC. 

in  the  long  run  by  the  expense  of  carrying 
the  road  an  eighth  of  a  mile  to  the  South  and 
all  on  level  ground,  than  there  would  be  by 
still  wasting  the  breath  of  horse  and  the  pa- 
tience of  man  in  panting  up  and  tottering  down 
this  monstrous  hill.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had 
been  blind  for  years,  not  to  have  conceived  of 
the  improvement  before.  No  tjme  was  to  be 
lost  now.  He  lifted  up  his  many-tongued 
voice,  and  put  forth  his  many-handed  strength, 
and  in  the  process  of  a  few  months  a  road  was 
constructed,  curving  round  the  south  side  of  the 
aforesaid  hill,  which  after  all,  proved  to  be 
but  a  few  rods  longer  from  point  to  point,  than 
the  other. 

The  district  were  no  longer  at  variance 
about  the  long-needed  edifice.  The  afore- 
mentioned improvement  had  scarcely  been  de- 
cided on,  before  every  one  perceived  how  the 
matter  might  be  settled.  A  school-meeting 
was  soon  called,  and  it  was  unanimously  agreed 
to  erect  a  new  school-bouse  on  the  new  road, 
almost  exactly  opposite  the  old  spot,  and  as 
equidistant  from  the  two  Ends,  it  was  believed, 
as  the  equator  is  from  the  poles. 

Here  Mr.  Henry  taught  the  District  School 
somewhat  as  it  should  be ;  and  it  has  never 
since  been  kept  as  it  was. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGiONAL  LiBRARY  FACILiTY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parlting  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNiA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  wliich  it  was  borrow( 


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•^2004 


l'iHHi?ilmS.!if,?'™'*L  LIBRARY  f 


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